How I Met Your Mother-Robin
by regertz
Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.
1. Chapter 1

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehersal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend...

Part I...

"New York City, circa Spring 1944…It was an exciting time to be alive. The Nazis were in trouble in Russia and just hanging on in Italy but not quite finished yet, prosperity was on the horizon though all were doing their bit for the war effort. My greatgranduncle Barney, one of New York's finest, famed Lieutenant of Detectives, undrafted due to gallant line-of-duty (and a few others, not so line-of-duty) injuries and all-around awesomeness as a detective, had even gone to the whole length of restricting himself to one suit per season." Cut to shot of circa 1944 Barney in suit, overcoat, fedora, ala Dana Andrews, standing in circa 1944 New York City street outside McLarens' Bar, at that time owned by Carl's grandfather, Carl.

("One suit? No…" mock horror look to the three Scherbatsky-Stinson children, Ellie, Robin Jr, and Barney, Jr. on couch, beside the second speaker, their mother the beauteous and ever-bodacious Robin Scherbatsky-Stinson, famed newscaster and producer, all four of whom rolled eyes.

"And who was this mysterious great-granduncle we've never heard of, that even my bro-in-law doesn't remember…?"

"Barney J. Stinson, much decorated Lieutenant of Detectives…The memory will come back in a moment, right, natural bro?"

"Yeah…Sure…Great uncle Barney." Sigh, smile from Barney's older brother James, seated on other section of couch by his husband Tom. "How could I have forgotten to ever mention him…?"

"Busy lives…" the narrator, one Bernard Stinson, Sr. noted quickly.)

"Anyway, as I was saying, the Spring of 1944 was a grand time to be alive and alive in New York City. The Depression was over and though suit rationing was in effect…Even FDR restricting himself to a winter and summer suit…Patriotism, and Eleanor, you know…"

Cut to shot of Eleanor "Robin" Roosevelt grimly eyeing Franklin "Barney" Roosevelt in his wheelchair as he rolled through a tailor's shop, she beside him…Numerous comely young women adoringly following, requesting autographs of the great president, and all starved for male attention due to wartime male rationing. "Aw, Babs…How can I pick just one?" "Franklin, there's a war on…And we'd better be talking suits."

("Ok to my being Eleanor on the idea you respect her that much…" Robin eyed Barney sternly.

Barney, giving "what" stare…"Totally. A great woman. Plus, have you seen photos of her when she was young. In my days of brodom I would've gone on that…And given her low self-esteem at the time…" "Barney?! Kids!" "Just making sure Bboy Jr doesn't listen to nasty stories about Mrs. R's appearance. Girl was hot till she got a little depressed after Franklin made a foolish mistake and let awesomeness go to his head... Hey, remember those pics of Mom when she and I first dated and she got all…Eggh…" "I thought burned those?!" "Robin…Darling…I keep everything…And you know the storage facility where I keep everything." "Just lets be sure 'awesomeness' never goes to your head…" frown. "Wife-bro?" hurt look. "Sorry. Filed point in your favor, hus-bro."

"That is really admirable, Barney. You sticking up for Mrs. Roosevelt like that." Ted Mosby, best friend of the said Barney Stinson, Sr, narrator, the usual sort of reasonably good-looking, anxious-to-be-recognized posuer, hanger-on type, taken under wing by the awesome, noted high-mindedly in his usual effort to seem both well-informed and noble.

"Hey, I am not a 'hanger-on', nor 'anxious-to-be-recognized poseur'…" Ted frowned from his chair. "And I am well-informed, I don't 'seem' to be."

"You did ask if we'd read the latest article about you in 'Architecture Today'…" Robin noted. "And you did bring a dozen copies of the article, honey…" Tracy Mosby, long-suffering and lovely…Person, (at Robin's quick frown)…Wife of said Ted.

"I thought my friends would like a copy…I'm not a poseur and I've never hung on…" said Ted, sulking in his usual way.

"I am not sulking, Barney!"

"He's really gonna be mad by the end of this, you know…" Robin noted, aside, to your narrator, Bernard Stinson, Sr. "Pissed. But after that fantasy about killing off Tracy with 'cancer' and us divorcing so he could get you…He deserves this. For Tracy's sake, even if she's forgiven him." High-minded look. "You be right, hus-bro." Nod, slap of hands.)

"Getting back to the story…Detective Lieutenant Stinson had been called to this place, a popular NYC watering hole, by his own chief, the politically-minded, though not totally corrupt, Commissioner of Police, Randolph Erickson."

("Objection…" Lily Erickson, lovely…Person… if rather small-sized female friend of your narrator called from her chair, interrupting the flow of narrative as she so often did. "You're not the judge in the family, you can't object." Barney frowned.

"I granted her the power in family/friends interaction." Marshall Erickson, male secondary bro and second best friend of your narrator, noted from his chair next to her. (Oh, and let me mention, Marshall is balding…Bald-ing…Hee, hee…) "Though really, Lily, it's ok. I kinda like the idea of being all tough and politically –minded and just a little corrupt, in the story. Plus I get to be 'Randolph'. I love that name."

"Fine…" Barney sighed. "State your objection."

(Balding…Marshall is bald-wait for it-ing.)

"Withdrawn, since ma honey's stated the case so well. But not too corrupt, though he ought to have a sexy mistress named Raven who looks like me." Beam.

"No wife, at this time…Of course." Stern glare at Barney.)

"Stinson…" the shrewd, balding… ("Barney!" Lily glared. "No, it's ok, these powerful guys are always balding, like Picard." Marshall beamed. Oooh…Picard Erickson…Lily pictured.)

"I'm giving you a new murder case. The one making the headlines, as usual…You being our most awesome lieutenant of detectives."

"Naturally, Commissioner." Nod.

"The case is that, in case you've been too busy solving incredibly awesome cases, of the brutal murder of famed pioneering ad agent and career girl, one Robin Scherbatsky…"

("Honey?!" "Barney?!" Robin, Lily, Tracy. "Kids?!" they eyed the respective three Scherbatsky-Stinson and the two Erickson children who rolled eyes collectively.)


	2. Chapter 2

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehersal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part II…

Booth in McLarens's Bar and Restaurant, one of 1944 NYC's premier watering holes…

"Hittin' the sauce a bit, I see, Stinson…" Commissioner Randolph…("I just love calling my character that…Randolph…") Erickson eyed his favored subordinate.

("Hey, I didn't write that…" Barney, your narrator, frowned. "Yeah, Lily and I came up with that 'sauce' thing. It sounds noir-ish." "Yeah, a hard-boiled 40's detective is always hittin' the sauce." Lily agreed. "Fine but what was that about 'subordinate'?" "Well, you work for the Commissioner, Detective Stinson. Chain of command…" Lily noted. "Dude, I did say you were my favored subordinate." Marshall, expansively opening hands. "Sounds like a cheap corrupt hack to me." Barney fumed.)

"What's the trouble this time? As in, what's her name?" Commissioner…Randolph…Erickson smiled.

"Who knows." Shrug. "Whoever it was, she put my heart through the wringer…"("Kids, that's an old-fashioned washing machine, attachment…" Ted began. "We know, Dad…Uncle Ted.") "…And it came out neatly pressed and awesome." Sneer.

"Yeah…? Well, you talk a good stand-alone bro, bro-detective. But I look forward to the day I hear a dame's finally got your number, put the cuffs on you, pinned you down like a butterfly under glass, stuffed you, mounted you, put you in a case, and is displaying you in her private museum."

Detective Stinson eyeing him...

"Then she'll sell tickets, and when the show's over she'll flay the skin off you, cut it up in little pieces, boil your flayed carcass to the bones, then take all those pieces and...".

("Marshall..." Ted staring. "Honey?" Lily, gently. "Erickson?" Robin glaring. "We discussed this. No scaring Barney except with guns and political pressure." "And...?" Marshall urged. "What?" Barney stared. "Just one and only the threat." Robin noted grimly. "Fine..." Marshall sighed. "But I really think it would be better for the story if..." eager look. "Not unless you want the same for 'Raven' times five." Narrow-eyed look. Lily, nervous shake no, please. "All right." Marshall sighed. "But I can make the threat...?" "Yeah , go nuts...once. Once!" Robin, sternly. "What?" Barney stared. "Words can't hurt ya, honey." She patted him .)

"Anyway, one day a dame'll bring you down, Stinson." Nod.

"Not a chance, Bro-commish." Leaning back. "But tell me about this 'big' case? It sounds less boring than some."

"High society dame got herself plugged three times right through the pump...Bang, bang, bangity bang." Making show of firing gun.

"Bang, bang, bangity bang?" Detective Stinson eyed him.

("Guys, you know no one bangity banged your mom, Aunt Robin." Lily, anxiously. "It's just a story." "Mom?" Marvin now nineteen eyed her. "Even Barney Jr sees worse on holo3D." "Not anymore." Robin vowed. Thanks, bro...Barney, Jr., glaring.)

"In her doorway, no less..." the commissioner nodded.

"Meaning she opened up for him or her, meaning the society broad knew the banger." Stinson, thoughtfully.

"Knew you'd be right on it like a dog on a bone, Stinson." Satisfied nod. Rub of mustache. ("Mustache, I never said he had a mustache." Barney, your narrator, frowned. "I don't get to slap you, even in a forties noir tale, I at least get a mustache." Uhhhhnnnhhh... Fine.")

" The department needs this closed, Stinson. I need it closed."

"High society with the really high society types, eh? The ones who have political connections? The kind who can get politically-minded commissioners fired or worse yet, sent to Newark or Trenton?"

"That kind…" nod.

"So…Who is…Was…This dame? Somebody's daughter?"

"Everyone's somebody's daughter, friend…" Erickson noted. "Uh, well, every girl is somebody's daughter, I mean." Firm stroke of mustache.

"You certainly are…" Stinson grinned.

Frown…"Anyway, here's the case file…" pushing folder across table to Stinson, he taking it.

"Not bad…Before the bangity-bang, bang, I mean." The detective held up a photo of the murdered girl. "This one…" he pushed a second photo away… "Ehew…And then some." Yeah, Commissioner Erickson grimaced.

"Well, even a cynical type like me can't take kindly to that kind of thing." Stinson nodded. "Lets see here…" he looked over the file. "Yeah, quite a list of upper crusty friends this Robin Scherbatsky had. Especially given she came from Canada originally, according to the passport." He tapped said passport.

"Good thing no one in Canada ever murders anyone intentionally. That narrows it to people she knew in the last ten years here in the States."

"Yeah, it's a help." Erickson agreed. "But these people have clout and want action. So do the papers. This girl was a popular girl, talented, beautiful, kind-hearted, the whole shebang…Everyone who knew her loved her and everyone in this city wants her killer found." (Ohhh…Barney…Robin cooed.) I need the magic, Stinson. Get me this case…Closed. Whatever it takes." Pause. "In a thoroughly legal and ethical manner, of course. I mean I know this is the 40s but don't falsely accuse a member of a minority or plant fake evidence to implicate some innocent working man or woman."

"Commish…" knowing look. "Have I ever needed tricks…Like this…?" wave of hand, fireball.

("Barney! Not in the house!" Ted fumed.)

…

"I shall never forget the weekend Robin died. A silver sun burned through the sky like a huge magnifying glass. It was the hottest Sunday in my recollection I felt as if I were the only human being left in New York I had just begun Robin's story when another of those detectives came to see me...I had him wait."

("Good, huh? Huh?" Ted beamed, pausing. "You didn't write that…" Barney eyed him. "Of course not, it's Waldo Lydecker's opening speech…What? You think I didn't catch on you were casting me in this as Waldo?" Ted eyes them in his forties suit with fedora. "Cmon, this is great stuff, you gotta put it in…I'll gladly play Waldo if you let me do the speeches."

"The villain…" Robin noted.

"Yeah, but what a villain…Waldo's one of the three great wordsmiths in noir movies…Waldo Lydecker, Addison De Witt, and JJ Hunsecker….And Waldo's the romantic one. Believe me, guys, I want to play Waldo." Ted beamed.

"He does, he really does…" Tracy noted. "He's been all over town to find a suit like Clifton Webb wore and he rehearsed that speech all week."

"Come on guys, I know you meant to get after me a little but this is my chance to do Waldo." Ted urged. "I won't let you down."

"What can we say? We've found Waldo. Theodore Waldo Lydecker Mosby, you know." Barney eyed Ted.

"Perfect." Ted beamed.

"You don't think Ted enjoys the idea of plotting to kill me?" Robin hissed to Lily.)


	3. Chapter 3

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehersal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part III…

("Ok, we're set…" Ted beams. "Places, people…

I cannot believe now we're filming this…Robin sighs inwardly. Still…So long as we remember Barney's the star here, however big a deal they make about the romantic villain guy in the reviews for the original movie….

Typical that Ted latches on to that one…Much as I love Ted…The guy who can't let go. Nice as that was at times in the past. And the whole point here was to needle him a little for hurting Tracy and Barney with that obsessive fantasy. Now he can't wait to do it…Typical Ted.

Not to mention…Given Barney wrote most of this, who made Ted Mosby the director?

In fact…I would never say anything except to Barney…Maybe Lily and therefore Marshall…But the more I see and read of this Lydecker guy, the more like Ted he seems. Giving Ted credit for better looks and being younger.

And a bit creepy considering this ex-boyfriend's goal is to blow my head off…

But now everyone's into this, especially Barney, so what can I do?

And I do kinda look hot in this 40s evening gown. Not to mention that portrait Barney'd already had done to commemorate the occasion.

No way is Ted keeping it by the way…But Tracy would never let him anyway…

It's nice she's getting into as videographer. Though I hope she's professional enough to do my good side…Maybe I should ask that Lily do my scenes?)

Detective Stinton, on sidewalk, eyeing the address before him…

"The first on my list of the creme de la creme to interview in the case of the Scherbatsky dame was one Theodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby. Prominent New York architect, columnist and theater critic, known as an arbiter of what was posh and trendy in any given year. His thumb's up or down could make or break a career in the arts. I'd no idea what a sharp dame like Robin Scherbatsky could've seen in a guy like this but they were known to have hung round a lot in the social world."

"Wow, Ted Lydecker-Mosby, the architect and columnist...?" young woman's voice cooing. "You really must be important, Police Commissioner Stinson. I didn't think Police Commissioners solved murder cases."

"Only the biggest ones, doll…" Detective Stinson told the young brunette in, for 1944, rather risqué dress. "Only the biggest…"

"But…If you're about to interview Mr. Lydecker-Mosby, maybe I should wait for you at home? To call me?"

"If you like, but I wouldn't hold your breath, doll. I might have a lot of Police Commissioner stuff to do afterwards. The smart move would be to wait right here." Nod.

"Well…Ok. I guess I could wait right here on this bus stop bench. But right after you finish, you'll come home to meet my parents? They'll be thrilled to know I'm dating the Police Commissioner."

"As will…Is…He, doll…" nod. Wink to us as the young woman takes seat in the bus stop booth, adjusting her hat as Detective Stinson, clearly not planning to return out that front entrance, enters the large and elegant apartment building's front entrance.

On entering, he scanned the row of door buzzers and saw, for the penthouse suite, the name of his quarry, Theodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby and buzzed….

Discreetly glancing to see the young brunette patiently seated, he entered the unlocked door and went to the elevator, a concierge meeting him by the said elevator, used by the lesser denizens, and immediately directing him to the private access penthouse suite elevator of Theodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby.

"Private elevator, eh?" he addressed the concierge who bore a striking resemblance to Police Commissioner Erickson.

"Indeed, sir. Mr. Lydecker-Mosby requires his privacy and detests the common herd, even the upper crusty commoner herd. I believe he's waiting for you. This way, sir." Holding private elevator door open.

"Right." It figured, Stinson nodded inwardly, to himself…Cause that's how he likes to review things…Inwardly.

…

"I shall never forget the weekend Robin died. A silver sun burned through the sky like a huge magnifying glass. It was the hottest Sunday in my recollection I felt as if I were the only human being left in New York I had just begun Robin's story when another of those detectives came to see me I had him wait…"

"What did you say?" Detective Stinson eyed the rather dandified man standing before him in the apartment doorway.

"Sorry…I sometimes like to express my profound thoughts in words. I'm Theodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby…Architect and columnist. You've no doubt heard of me though my powerful column and radio broadcasts." Cool stare at the rather impressively awesome detective.

"I only read the funnies and listen to war news, sorry." Stinson eyed him.

"Indeed. I rather fancy Beetle Bailey, myself. His plebian commentary on the life of the average GI Joe is so amusing." Lydecker-Mosby smiled coolly. "So, another detective sent to interview me about Robin Scherbatsky? And you say your name is Stinson?"

"Barney J. Stinson, Lieutenant."

Lydecker-Mosby regarding him with interest now.

Naturally…

"Stinson? Not the police detective who brought in Machine Gun Aldrin…?" Careful eyeing… "Quite an accomplishment, gunning her down…Even if she was seven months pregnant."

("My idea…" Lily beamed to Robin. "Who says a girl can't be a murderous 40s gangster?")

"The same…And yeah…All part of a day's awesomeness…" cool nod. "Now about this Scherbatsky dame…"

"Certainly, but just a minute…" Lydecker-Mosby put up a gloved hand.

("What? Are you Michael Jackson?" Barney eyed the hand. "I wanna come off a bit of a degenerate dandy…" Ted noted. "Ted, you don't need a glove for that." Barney assured him.)

"I wrote a column about you and your violations of civil liberties….I'd like to know more about your fascinating career. I'm on the Citizens' Police Board and friendly with the Mayor, I might be able to put in a good word for your promotion, Stinson. Or break you worse than any antique porcelain clock in my hallway that I'd really rather you never looked in."

"Porcelain clock?" Stinson eyed the man.

"Yeah, that one over there…" Lydecker-Mosby pointed. "It's an antique that no one would ever consider hiding a murder weapon in, especially an aesthete like me ."

"Right…Well, anyway…Ted."

"First-name basis, how quaint and foolishly democratic…Mr. Lydecker-Mosby."

"Lieutenant Detective Stinton…" stern regard.

"Touche…" slight bow by Lydecker-Mosby. "So come in, if you're not a vampire…I like to cover all bases." He led the detective inside.

"Forgive the rather large blank spot on my living room wall suggesting a painting of considerable size had recently hung there…" Lydecker-Mosby noted. "Can I get you anything…Liquid, with some percentage of alcohol? I know I'll need one to endure yet another interview. Ah, wait…You're on duty."

"Scotch…Neat…And this is 1944, pour on my friend."

"Of course…" Lydecker-Mosby went to a rather elegant bar area, pulling out a very expensive-looking bottle. "Glen McKenna, $100 bottle in 1944 currency." Smiling, Lydecker-Mosby hands elegant Scotch-filled glass tumbler.

"Nice…But Scotch is…Whoa…Oh, my God…!" Stinson, sipping.

"The architecture thing is my real passion but the columnist gig allows me to live in the style into which I've become accustomed…." Lydecker-Mosby, archly. "Have a seat, what can I do for you? Perhaps you think with your amazing expertise you'll be able to see what others could not and crack this rather simple little exercise in murder?"

"The Commissioner seems to think so, I'm undecided as to whether it's my detectively expertise or my general awesomeness." Stinton noted. "So, tell me about…Robin Scherbatsky.?"

Lydecker-Mosby giving far-away look… "I shall never forget…"

"Yeah, yeah…" Stinson put up a hand. "I get the silver sun jazz…"


	4. Chapter 4

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehersal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part IV…

"I met Robin Scherbatsky five years ago, when she was just a fresh young girl off the train from Canada…" Lydecker-Mosby noted as he and Detective Stinson sat on his exquisite sofa in his palacial yet efficiently designed apartment. "She was just starting in the ad game and had been assigned a minor account by her rather lecherous boss, Sandy Rivers, of Rivers, Sterling, Cooper, Inc, for which she required an endorsement by a famous person. Wisely, she chose me." Thin smile.

Scene opens in the famed "21" restaurant…The famed architect and columnist Theoodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby at lunch exchanging bon-mots with nearly equally famous theater critic Addison De Witt (who bore a striking resemblance to bald-wait for it-ing Police Commisioner….Randolph… Erickson).

"So you really think you've got this aspiring actress, Eve Harrington, dead to rights, DeWitt?" Lydecker-Mosby eyed his elegant companion.

"My dear fellow, you know all too well, when one has been in the theater critic and columnist business as long as we have, you know every one's secrets or can obtain them." Mild sneer. "Miss Harrington's were not difficult to penetrate." Elegant tap of cigarette holder.

("Not lit, I don't want him smoking again." Lily insisted. "You're just afraid you'll start again, too." Robin noted. "Yeah, but…")

"Well, she's a most promising if fiendishly ambitious actress, sure to put Margo Channing out to pasture in a few years. But the real question is…Dear boy? Is she really as hot as she looks on stage?"

"Smokin', bro." elegant nod. "Smokin'."

("It's accepted that I'm off-screen playing this ambitious bimbo." Lily pronounced. "No scheming actresses controlled by ruthless, despicable me but you, honey." Marshall agreed.)

"Mr. Lydecker-Mosby? Do you have a moment?" an eager voice at his elbow. He turned, elegantly, to observe a fresh-faced young beauty with raven's-hair in somewhat…Canadian…Middle class respectable clothes beaming at him, waving a clipboard and a pen.

"Miss, unless you're a waitress bearing my crème brulee or an offer to refill my glass of Chateau-Lafyette '27, I am at lunch. No one but a waitress bearing some portion of my meal or refilling my glass bothers me at lunch." Cold but apprising stare. "And as Wendy, our waitress, is approaching with said crème brulee, you may begone."

"Bro…? Not bad, if you could get her out of the Canadian Anne of Green Gables suit." DeWitt hissed.

"Mr. Lydecker-Mosby, I'm really sorry to bother you but I needed to speak with you and I couldn't get an appointment." The girl noted, flustered in her speech.

"Then you're hardly important enough to be interrupting my lunch." Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"I'm sorry, it's just…I really need your endorsement for our new Rolling Righter ballpoint pen,..It's a new invention right out of Canada, like me." She beamed. "The best ballpoint pen on the 1944 market…"

"And the two of you may roll right on back to Canada, Miss. I never endorse anything except my own buildings, my books, articles, and broadcasts, and, very occasionally, a work of art or a play I consider exceptional…Though being an acerbic critic of exquisite tastes, I usually pan them. You are not exceptional and may go. Wendy? Would you escort the young lady to the curbside like Josephine Baker if she ever comes here after the war?"

"That's terrible, Lydecker-Mosby." DeWitt stared. "Josephine's a wonderful person. Whom I rather hope to hook up with in the post-war era after I've used and dumped that actress of mine."

"Forward-thinking, DeWitt, I grant you." Nod. Frown at the still-waiting girl, resisting Wendy the said waitress' efforts to pull her away before police were called. "Are you still here?"

"I really, really need this endorsement from you, Mr. Lydecker-Mosby."

"And I really, really need for you to begone and stop keeping me from my dessert." Glare. "If you persist I shall not only have the management have police summoned but I will contact your employer to have you fired and certain friends at the Department of State to have you deported back to Canada."

"Dude?" DeWitt hissed. "Make a ruthless exploitive use of your power or let me. You're making us look a little gay here…"

"I might be willing…" DeWitt began, leering at the girl.

"Sorry, I need someone really famous…." The girl insisted, shyly. Lydecker-Mosby now amused in spite of himself to see his ever urbane bro yet rival friendemy shot down so abruptly.

"My dear girl." Coldly furious tone. "I am Addison DeWitt, I'm nobody's fool and quite famous. Since I already have a steady if scheming and ambitious yet ruthlessly under my control, girlfriend, I add my voice to my friend's in insisting you leave, at once."

"That's telling her, bro-critic." Lydecker-Mosby offering hand as the girl sheepishly left at the approach of the anxious and worried manager and several waiters… DeWitt slapping hand.

"We are the bad boys of New York City, bro…" nods to each other.

…

"You might have thought that would have been the end of it, but the girl possessed true Canadian grit of the most obtuse kind… It was only a day before I found her lurking outside my office door, trying to slip past my ever-efficient secretary, Miss Aldrin."

"Mr. Lydecker-Mosby? It's that Canadian girl from Rivers, Sterling, Cooper again." Miss Aldrin's voice on intercom.

"Send her away…" firm tone. "Have security rough her up a bit on the way out. These plebian-hordes must be taught a firm lesson."

"Right, sir. Hey!..." on intercom as the door opened to reveal an anxious Robin in her 40s career girl suit with hat.

("You like the hat?" Robin asked Barney. "I wasn't sure but…It's kinda growing on me." "Not bad…" Barney nodded, circling her… "I say…'Hat up' wife-bro.")

"Miss…" Lydecker-Mosby, coolly furious, regarding her from his desk as she shut his office door and locked it.

"Scherbatsky, Robin Scherbatsky…Pleased to meet ya." She stuck out hand. He coldly regarding it.

"Good to have your name. For the police. Get out."

"Sir, Mr. Lydecker-Mosby? All I need is for you to try the pen and if you like it, sign your endorsement…" she pleaded. "It really means so much to me…"

"All the more reason for me to say no…And, call the police, Miss Aldrin!" calling.

"Yes, sir." Reply though door. Miss Scherbatsky sighing, but ever-persistent.

"Oh, why are you acting like this, sir? I just want you to try this pen. It's such a little thing. You seem like such a nice man in your column and radio broadcasts. I thought you cared about people…"

"I do my best to offer that illusion, young lady." Sneer.

"Well, you know what I think?"

"Probably some sentimental twaddle about me secretly having a heart…Young lady, I think it best you leave. Unless you're eager for a one-way trip home?"

"Oh, no…I'm determined to make it here in Manhattan."

"My dear, this city will eat you and spit you up like so much dog spit up…"

(Eehew?…Robin, Lily)

"…My advice…Return to the pastures of your idyllically bovine home and remain there. Bear children to some lumpen of your native land and never darken my door again."

"Well, there was someone back home, but that didn't work out. And I can't fail, sir. You know…I think you're just afraid to show your heart, Mr. Lydecker-Mosby. Someone hurt you once and you keep up this front of being all mean and cynically."

"Really?" thin smile. "You see that in me? Perhaps you also see how I'm going to press charges…And ruin your firm."

"Oh…" Robin, nervous now. "You can't do that. Rivers, Sterling, Cooper, Inc's not to blame. I came on my own."

"Please…" Lydecker-Mosby, sneering. "No mere girl would have the courage and brio to beard this lion of New York in his den. Rivers, that fool, sent you."

"No sir, he didn't…I mean he ordered me to get a first-class endorsement by Thursday or go back to the steno pool . I kinda got myself in hot water by refusing to sleep with him when he made me his personal assistant my first day…"

"The typical life of a 1944 career girl in NYC…You'd have my sympathies if I could care." He regarded her pleading, open face. She regarding him.

("At that moment precisely, something earnest in that face touched my heart. Robin had a sincerity about her that was…" Lydecker-Mosby paused. "Annoying, cloying, what?" Stinson offered. "All of that but also…Real…I'd not experienced…Real…Since I'd left my home in Ohio to become New York's most prominent architect and most powerful critic/columnist… Yes, something in her touched my heart." "And your genitals, I hope." Stinson noted. "That kid was hot, by her not-shot-to-pieces photo." "Indeed, that too." Lydecker-Mosby agreed.)

"Well…I suppose it would piss Rivers off if you pulled off this coup, wouldn't it?" he gave slightest of smiles. He pressed button as Robin hopefully stared. "Miss Aldrin? Cancel the police and make a reservation at 21 for two for lunch. Not Addison and me, though put us next to his regular table."

"Well?" he eyed her somewhat stunned look. "Let me see this amazing writing implement…If it is all you claim, perhaps I'll sign that endorsement, after lunch."

…..

"Naturally, after watching ole Addison stew at his table watching us during lunch I did sign the endorsement, the first of many, including many friends whom I introduced her to. I gave her start…But it was her own talent and ability that took her to the top of the glass ceiling in her business…I mean, 1944, after all."

Shot of Robin in 40s business attire handling ad contracts, writing, wheeling and dealing to the limits of the 1944 glass ceiling…

"I became her mentor, her guide…I opened doors for her to New York that most only dream of entering…"

"Really? Say. could you…?"

"No." cool frown. "As I was saying, I opened doors for her and soon we were recognized as a power couple in the only Society that mattered."

"Right, right…So you were banging her?"

"Like totally…Don't let the prissy act fool you, bro." Nod, mutual high-five. "And were my rivals like Addison pissed to see me nailing a girl like that, once I'd gotten her into decent clothes…"

Cut to Robin in elegant 40s theater gown…Attended by Lydecker-Mosby in tux.

("I hope you know just how big a person Tracy is being here…Ted."Lily, sternly.)

"…But this was more than having a elegant trophy chick on display or playing New York Pygmalion to Canadian Galatea…For the first time in years, another human being had come to matter to me. And away from the crowds and the up-yours, rivals opening nights and art openings, I'd come to treasure our times together, alone, at my home here, where we'd spend time talking, cooking, listening to recorded rebroadcasts of my broadcasts, she hearing me read my columns and commenting on it, as I taught her from my profound wisdom and exquisite taste, adding the final polish she needed."

"Nice…But you really were nailing her, right?"

"Bro…? I said so. Geesh. I mean, when I could, given my slight heart condition."

"Uh-huh… 'Heart condition'. Uh-huh."

"Hey, I take pills and everything, see? I nearly croaked the first time we did it. Though to be fair, with Robin Scherbatsky one didn't need a heart condition to…"

("Ted! Limits!" Lily cried, indicating a glum Tracy.

"Trac…Just filling my character…Honey…")

"…it was always very nice."

"I see. So you fell for the dame, moron. How lame is that? Big time society guy with mucho insecurity issues freaks when a pretty girl shows him a little attention."

"Hey…I totally nailed a bunch of hot aspiring types before Robin. The heart condition only showed up a couple of years before her."

"Right and then you continued this lesbian relationship with Scherbatsky for how long?"

"Five years, as I said earlier…"

"Really, five years?"

"Really…Why? Oh, you mean…Why didn't we marry?" arch smile.

"No…" Stinson shrugged. "I mean…Why didn't she go and find a real man after she grew up and learned how to dress and lose the Canadian accent?"

Dark look from Lydecker-Mosby… "It so happens Robin and I cared for each other, on a level a man like you could never understand…"

"Like I said, a lesbian relationship. So things were humming, Robin wasn't demanding too much from you and your 'heart condition'…But it didn't last, did it?"

Grim look. "There were… Complications…But Robin loved me. She thought me the kindest, gentlest, ("Lesbian, lesbian…" Stinson noted)…Sweetest!" Lydecker-Mosby, grimmer tone. "…Man in the world. And for her, I tried to be that man."

"Did it work?" Stinson, eyeing him.

"If my neighbor's children were to be devoured by wolves, I should be extremely sorry." Smug look.

("Nailed it, didn't I? Totally…Nailed…The line." Ted beamed. "Right, Trace…Trace?" looks round. "Ted. Did you have to keep harping on the nailing?" Lily sighed. "Oh…Did she run or…?" "Bathroom!" Tracy called. "That's a good sign, right?" he hissed to Lily. "Camp by the door and do not leave even to pee." She commanded.

"Totally nailed the line, didn't I, dude?" Ted, seated by bathroom door, to Marshall.)


	5. Chapter 5

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehersal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part V…

The apartment of Robin Scherbatsky…Upper West Side, NYC…

"Nice digs…" Stinson, looking round.

"I suppose you'll caution me that I shouldn't touch anything…" Lydecker-Mosby noted.

"No, our boys from forensics have been over the place, though I do wonder why you're choosing to tag along with me. Afraid I'm not of the persuasion, bud." Arch look.

"Again with the attempts to needle me on my sexuality, based on stereotypes about my habits and interests, Stinson? Well, two can play at that game…Perhaps I might note your continual harping on nailing Miss Scherbatsky suggests you're rather infatuated with her. Well, you may as well get a good look at her…Behold…" Lydecker-Mosby opened the front hall door into the living room, where, above a rather elegant fireplace hung a large portrait.

"That's…" Stinson stared.

"Yes, in all her glory…The fellow painted Robin was one of New York's finest, though you've never heard of him. He fell into obscurity shortly after painting this." Thin smile.

"With a push from a certain powerful critic?" Stinson eyed him.

"He forgot his place…I showed it to him."

"Really…" Stinson, gazing at the incredible portrait.

"Robin…Is a face in the misty light…" Lydecker-Mosby hummed.

"What?"

"Oh, the tune? A little ditty a songwriter former acquaintance of mine wrote on seeing this. He likewise fell into obscurity afterwards. As for the 'tagging-along', Detective, as Robin's close friend and mentor I want to see justice done and I have the connections among her friends to help you perform the same."

"I see…" Stinson, still staring.

"Of course, I realize I must be among the suspects but as your Police Commissioner and the interviewers before you must have told you, I had a…What is it? 'water-tight' alibi? I was doing a broadcast the night Robin was killed."

"Convenient."

"Fortunate, I would say. Though if I'd been with her…" tremble. "You must bring those who brought her down and degraded her lovely simplicity and perfection to justice, Detective. And I can see that you'll need my help."

"Thanks…" arch glance. "But I doubt that. Still, it is quite a portrait."

"Unforgettable…I think no man who sees it can resist falling in love with her. " slight sneer, arch look.

"And killing her, if she doesn't return the compliment?"

"You'd know better than I, Lieutenant. Such sordid matters are outside my realm."

"Except to write about…?" shrewd look.

"The common herd enjoy such things…Nothing like a nice, grisly murder to quicken the blood of the masses, especially when such a lovely thing is trampled into the dust. Detective, you will need me if you're to find the murderer. Someone who can lead you where you'll need to go among the upper echelons of New York Society with an S."

"It's a free country, Lydecker-Mosby. Tag along as you will…But tell me more about this painter. Was he in love with her too?"

"Naturally…" both gazing at the portrait. "And for a short time she became enthralled with him…Him and his chiseled chin and muscular torso."

"Oh? Took stock did we?"

"He also had something of a gift of gab and a pleasing manner, much like Satan. I let things run their course, this sort of thing had happened with us before. Robin was a vital young woman with a decent salary, a place in Society and a successful career, plus a fine apartment in a prime location during the wartime housing shortage, and types like these are always about with their fake posturing and a smattering of artistic knowledge and talent. But it never lasts, Robin being a sensible girl, she sees though such poseurs, sometimes on her own, sometimes with my help."

"Your…'Help'?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, my help. I protected Robin from those who would degrade and abuse her, merely by showing her what such men were truly made of. Take this fellow for example…" he indicated the portrait. "Able enough in mere technique but of no real artistry. When I found he was attempting to lead her on, I took action, though my column. I ridiculed his methods and pretensions, showed him up for what he was, a minor poseur of no real talent, a man who took advantage of women gullible enough to believe his patter. After I was through with him, she couldn't regard him with anything but amusement and contempt." Sneering glance to portrait. "I will say he managed a decent piece of work, but with such a subject…"

"Yeah, I'd say a masterpiece."

"Even that sort of man can manage to create one beautiful work in his life, Stinson." Frosty smile. "I should remember to put in a bid for it when her things are sold."

"Charming…" Detective Stinson eyed him.

"She was my dear friend and as you say, it's a masterwork, even if the creator was of limited talent."

"Funny how the size matches that spot on your apartment wall…" Stinson noted.

"Not really. I had it hung there for nearly two years until she asked for it. I'd not gotten round to replacing it."

"And just why did she suddenly want it back?"

"I imagine she'd at last reconciled with her memories of him. You see he was not only unworthy of her intellectually, but morally. He had, however tritely cliché it may be, a wife in Boston."

"Boston?"

"Yes. You can see why he spent as much time in New York as possible."

"Mr. Lydecker?" a rather comely woman in maid's uniform had entered the living room.

"Ah, Cora…" Lydecker addressed the woman whose lovely auburn hair peeked out from her cap.

("Thanks, Barney…That's sweet." Lily beamed.)

"The Law and I were just checking in…How is everything? The vultures are being kept at bay?"

"There were a lot of people…Police…About, after she…" weeping…

"Ah, there, there, girl. Keep your wits about you. She'd not want to see you in tears." Lydecker-Mosby, kindly, patting.

"Why are you here, miss?" Stinson eyed her.

"I'm paid through the month, so I'm keeping her things safe from the likes of you and your police, pawing through everything. She was a good, kind girl, was Miss Scherbatsky. They're always coming by to paw and the reporters are worse…Their foul stories and lies about her." bitter tone.

"Yes, they would be." Lydecker-Mosby nodded. "Well…Suppose you fetch the Detective and myself a cup of tea while we try to determine who among all those who knew Robin might have killed her?"

"Yes. All right, sir…"

"Cream and lemon, no sugar for me. Detective? Just black I presume?"

"Just black…And make it coffee if you have it." Stinson nodded.

"The hard-boiled detective takes his black, Cora. And bring a little brandy if there's any?"

"Yes, sir." The maid departed into what Stinson presumed was a kitchen.

"We may as well be comfortable, Stinson…" Lydecker-Mosby noted, taking chair. "I imagine this case while fundamentally simple, will take some time."

"And why is that?" Stinson, taking chair.

"Too many suspects, Stinson…Too many suspects." Smile.

("What? Marshall regarded Lily's frown. "You know I offered to do that portrait…" she sighed. "I coulda done a bang-up portrait of Robin.")

….

"Robin…Is a face in the misty light…Robin…" Lydecker-Mosby was again humming as Cora returned with tray and set it on a small table.

Stinson frowning at him but returned to regarding the luminous portrait.

"There you are, gentlemen. If you want anything else…" Cora noted.

"Just a question." Stinson eyed her. "Where were you the night she was murdered?"

"Here. I found her. Right there, on the floor." The maid pointed. "I'd only come back to see that everything was locked up and there…Oh…They did a good job cleaning up the mess, I must say…"

"Why locked up? And why weren't you here before?"

"Spatter everywhere but…Oh…Yes… Well…She was supposed to still be away…I always check when she's away."

"Away for the weekend, at her cottage on Long Island, yeah, I read that in the file. Too bad she decided to come home instead. So you don't live here?" the detective regarded her.

"No, I live in Brooklyn and come in for the day…Sometimes I do stay over for parties and such, in the maid's room when she needs…" weeping.

"Right, thanks. That'll be all." Stinson nodded. The maid wiping eyes and heading for the kitchen, clearly in tears again.

"A bit cold even by my standards, Detective." Lydecker-Mosby noted.

"I wanted to shake her up a little. And not only to see those boobs heave."

Astonished look…"Surely you don't suspect Cora? The woman idolized her."

"Idols are sometimes overturned and broken." Stinson shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time…"

"We will get on, Detective…" Lydecker-Mosby smiled, sipping tea.


	6. Chapter 6

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehersal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wron g girl but the right best friend

Part VI…

The apartment of Robin Scherbatsky…

One hour later…

"Well, this little kaffee-klasch, mitigated by brandy, has been fun…" Lydecker-Mosby noted, setting down his cup. "But Detective…" eyeing Stinson now dividing his attention between being lost in regarding the Robin portrait, after an hour of looking through the apartment's furnishings including Miss Scherbatsky's personal effects and playing a handheld game involving rolling small metal balls into various holes, euphemistically labeled 'Baseball'. "…Detective? Much as I appreciate your need to breath the very air our victim lived in and explore her personal life down to her undergarments in order to have some mystically Holmesian insights, don't we have suspects to interview? Not to mention I have a luncheon table reserved for 1pm at the Algonquin, with Addison De Witt the famed critic and my part best bro, part friendemy. Detective?"

"Hmmn?" Stinson looked over… "Whoa. Nailed all seven 'bases', for the kids, babes for us adults…High five!" he raised hand, Lydecker-Mosby staring at said hand.

You surely don't expect me to touch that…His look expressing. Stinson, having pocketed his game, eyeing the portrait yet again.

One truly bodacious chick…A real shame she got splattered all about this room.

"Duty and all that, Stinson. I'm afraid staring at her portrait won't bring her back, I've tried." Slight note of emotion at that end. "We should be off unless you've decided poor Cora fits the murderous bill."

"No…I seriously doubt she killed Miss Scherbatsky." The detective shook head.

"You hear that, Cora?" Lydecker-Mosby, archly to the just-entered Cora who began clearing the cups and saucers from small side table to tray. "You're off the list of suspects…Breath freely, dear."

"I wouldn't have killed Miss Scherbatsky…" Cora, gasping in the midst of loading tray. "Best to hand me that brandy bottle, dear." Lydecker-Mosby noted, taking bottle.

"You can't say that…!" the woman insisted, pleading tone.

"Maybe not." Stinson eyed her. "But I want you to stay in the area for now. Keep yourself available. Meaning don't make any sudden trips to some relative in the mid-West, all right?"

"No, sir." She hurried out, bearing tray.

"I see you're the 'suspect no one and everyone type', Stinson. Probably not a bad course to pursue here." Lydecker-Mosby smiled at Stinson as the detective rose from his chair.

"I'd drop the 'no one', Lydecker-Mosby'. I even still have you on the list, despite the 'water-tight' alibi."

"Of course…" thin smile… "To have overlooked me would have been a pointed insult. Shall we go? As I said I have a luncheon date."

"No need for you to trail along…" cool regard.

"Why I wouldn't miss it. I know you'll have to visit everyone on your list of suspects. I like to study their reactions." Smirking leer as the detective paused to give the portrait a last stare. Lydecker-Mosby leering.

"You know, Stinson, you'd better watch yourself… Or you'll end up in a psychiatric ward. I don't think they've ever had a patient who fell in love with a corpse." Arch smile, the detective eyeing him coldly.

("Of course it does happen, the clinical name is Necro…" "Yeah, Ted, we know…" Robin sighed. "That really is quite a neat portrait, honey…" she smiled to Barney, gazing up. "You suppose we could hang it in our bedroom?" she asked Barney. "You know there's also a clinical name for a condition where people fall in love with their own image, in paintings, in a stream's reflection, on TV…" Ted noted, as Robin beamed at portrait, winking to her image…Yeah, you are somethin' girl.

"Yeah, it's called…Being Awesome." Barney, fond stare at the Missus…Who gave a brief…"Aw"…Before eagerly resuming regarding her portrait.

Geesh…"Even Barney doesn't have a six foot portrait of himself in his bedroom." Lily hissed to Tracy.

"Actually…" Ted, hearing. "Though he does keep it hidden behind a sliding panel a lot of the time…"

"Sort of like your wall of magazine covers?" Tracy smiled at him. "It's only six…And they're real covers not fake like trump's." "Ted. Two are copies Penny made in first and second grade art class." "So you don't want a portrait, same guy, 40s elegant gown." "I never said that…But…Early 60s, Audrey Hepburn 'Breakfast at Tiffany's gown and big hat…And…One foot bigger than Robin's. And that hidden panel thing, mine is for us alone."

"I can do that." Ted, fondly. "Trace, you really are the greatest."

"Yes, I am…" nod. "Now lets go get Robin-obsessed Theodore Waldo in his grave…I get that that's what this really is about, Ted." Fond smile, pat.

"Absolutely. Lets." Ummn…

"And it is a chance for you to do a great job playing a famous 40s film noir villain…"

"You really are the greatest, Trace.")

Stinson paused to pull on his overcoat, as the two men rose. "I read your column today, first time."

"I'm flattered." Lydecker-Mosby, fixing hat on head, admiring glance in the living room's wall mirror. "Anything I can do to enhance the intelligence of the general population…" shrewd grin. "I do hope you liked the bit about the detective on the Scherbatsky case. I asked the paper to reprint an excerpt from my previous column about you taking down dear Miss Aldrin and her machine gun. Cora?! We're leaving! Lock up after us, will you?!" Lydecker-Mosby called. "A treasure in the rough, that girl." The two strode toward the apartment building's street exit.

"Yeah…If we clear her, I'm totally swooping back in to hit that. I did notice you said Aldrin was rubbed out with a shotgun loaded with buckshot, the way Robin Scherbatsky was murdered, the night before last."

"Did I?" pause. Mockingly arch look.

"Uh-huh.. But she was really killed with a sash weight. I oughta know. I dropped it on her when she was fleeing the building after taking out two of my men."

("Aw, Barney…" Lily beamed. "Ya'll never take me alive, coppas!" she growled to Marshall… "And, they didn't.")

"How ordinary." Sniff, shrug. "My version was obviously superior. I never bother with details, you know." He led Stinson out to the street.

"I…Do." Stinson noted as they stood by the building's door.

"Indeed…And yet the charming Miss Machine Gun Aldrin was 'done in' by you over a year ago. And that column appeared the week of her death."

"Didn't say it meant anything. Just interesting that you should be so fascinated with death by shotgun." Stinson, coolly. They descended the outside stairs to street, Lydecker-Mosby continuing.

"Murder and violent death fascinate me. Perhaps it's my twisted desire to experience them vicariously…Or perhaps I'm a frustrated patriotic son of Uncle Sam, peeved at being unable to carry a gun and slog through malarial marshes for Victory. Heart condition, you know. Also it seems my feet are rather flat and I'm a bit old for service."

Stinson regarding him… "Sounds like you actually tried to join up."

"I offered my services in any minor capacity. The war board told me I was doing more for the war effort through my column and design work. Truly gratifying, even if they say to all rich, connected types excused from the draft. You seem stunned, don't I seem the flag-waving type?"

"Come to mention it, no." Stinson had pulled his 'baseball' game out again and was rolling balls into their proper holes.

("For scoring bases, kids." Marshall hastily insisted. "Dad…" Marvin sighed. "We can talk about Aunt Robin's guts being splattered but ignore that Uncle Barney's playing 'Nail the Chick"?)

"Well, we can't all be muscular ex-football players who take bullets for the general populace in the mean streets of New York."

"It was baseball, but thanks." Stinson waved for a cab, one pulling up quickly.

"Same difference as far as I'm concerned. We should be moving if you wish to catch Anne Treadswell at home." Lydecker insisted, Stinson pausing at open cab door to regard his uninvited companion.

"Naturally you'd want to interview Robin's closest living relative in town. And I know the address by heart. I've been both feted and skewered there, many times."

"Fine…Lets go see the family…" Stinson nodded, giving address to driver. ("Hello…" wave. "I am grandfather to the driver Rangit you know.")

"So…Honestly? You actually hit that?" Stinson eyed Lydecker-Mosby as they sat in cab. "Scherbatsky? For five years?"

"Bro, what did I say about stereotypical assumptions? Totally…Though it was actually just three and a half…We took our time, waited for the right special evening when we were cooking at my place and she was listening to me reading my latest column."

"Anything to shut you up, eh?"

"Yeah?" frown… "Well I nailed her and you can't, now." Sneer.

"Uh-huh…I'll bet it was…'Oh, I really want to swing your world'…" ("Hey, get the 1944 reference to 'swing' instead of 'rock'…That was Barney's idea. Totally awesome, hus-bro!" Robin called, fondly.) "…'Robin, but…My heart condition…Lets try this another night and have some cocoa?' No wonder she kept hitting on guys like that painter."

"That didn't happen all the time…!" Lydecker-Mosby fumed. "And they hit on her, till her natural sense, occasionally with some help from me, my profound wisdom of the world, and my obsessive possessiveness caused her to drop them and return to me. And I'm not the one who wants to sleep with a corpse. Cause I…Totally…Nailed her alive." Peers out window… "Oooh, see that building? I designed that." He pointed.

"Bet you nailed it, too." Stinson, drily. "You ever take a break from yourself?"

"In my case, self-absorption is completely justified. I have never discovered any other subject quite so worthy of my attention." Smug look.

("It is scary how close this Lydecker guy is to Ted." Lily noted quietly to Marshall.)

….

The swank apartment of Miss Scherbatsky's wealthy and well-connected aunt, Anne Treadswell.

"So…Miss Treadswell…" Detective Stinson eyed the red-haired woman in stylish 40s outfit ("Lily? We just finshed paying that card off." "It's for Art, Marshall.") seated before him, bearing an odd resemblance to Cora the Scherbatsky maid. "I'm investigating the murder of your niece, Miss Scherbatsky? Uh, Just a few questions, ma'am."

"I'm just 'tagging along', pretend I'm not even here…" Lydecker-Mosby smiled, taking seat and looking eagerly over at them.

"Of course, Lieutenant…And only to happy to do so, Theodore." Miss Treadswell nodded. "Though is it appropriate police procedure to have Theodore here?"

"1944, ma'am. We can take liberties. And liberty from you, easy." Stinson noted. "You were summoned to Miss Scherbatsky's apartment by the maid, Cora…The one who so resembles you?"

"Yes, it was horrible, Lieutenant. Robin was my favorite niece. To see her lying there on the floor with her face really blown apart, brains and blood splattered round the place. Though, by the way, I'm only a year or so older, maybe not even that." Anne noted.

("Lily?" "It's ok, Marshall…" Robin shrugs. "Just a little descriptive color. Besides, I must've cleaned up well off the floor and walls and furniture or Waldo would have heaved his guts out." grin. "I think Lily is older though.")

"Yes, I get that." Stinson nodded. "And I understand you were rather close to the man she was supposed to be engaged to? One Shelby Carpenter, idle, no longer rich, playboy about town?"

The woman frowned…Lydecker-Mosby grinning…

"That's malicious gossip. Shelby's a friend of mine, he met Robin through me, at a party here, in my own home…The little tramp couldn't wait to get her hooks into him. I was so happy for them both, really." Wan smile.

"Really…" Stinson drily.

"Re…ally…" Lydecker-Mosby, archly. "Besides, it is rather convenient to keep the lover in the family…"

"Shut up, Theodore. Yes, we were friends. Old money attracts, Lieutenant. Similar tastes, need to show at various balls and things old money does. It was only natural we'd know each other in Society."

"Except that Carpenter had no money…" Stinson noted, drily. "And you were in the habit of supplying him with money."

"Not a red cent, nothing but his studly, muscular manhood and reasonable fashion sense…" Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"Theodore…" Anne frowned. "I don't see why I shouldn't have given Shelby a little money. We're old friends…We old money types in Society do it all the time."

"You're making those stereotypical assumptions about you, pretty easy, Lydecker-Mosby." Stinson eyed him. "And it wasn't a little money, Miss Treadswell.." he pulled out notebook from overcoat pocket. "According to our review of your banking records…"

She eyed him…

"1944, as I said… You were in the habit of supplying him with quite a bit of money."

"He was my old friend and my niece's fiancée. Naturally I wanted to help as I could…"

"Anne? Is it all right if I come out of the bedroom now?" a man's voice called. "I'm kind of hungry…" A tall figure in elegant ("Wait, so we can only afford to rent this but you bought yours?" Marshall eyed Lily.) …suit approached.

("Not bad. I like it even better than the DeWitt outfit. Damned about time he suited up." Robin noted to Barney who nodded.)

"Ah, speak of the devil himself. Shelby? Out of the boudoir?" Lydecker-Mosby, malicious smile. "Or did you just happen to climb in through the bedroom window, for a casual visit?"

"Hello, Ted." Dark look. "Yes, officer, I'm Shelby Carpenter of the formerly wealthy now rather not so Carpenters. You're the detective investigating Robin's murder?" Carpenter, tall and muscular in elegant suit eyed Stinson.

"That's right…Detective Lieutenant Stinson…" Cold appraising stare. "And you're the supposed fiancée?"

"Yes. Robin and I were to be married soon…I'm devastated."

"Yes. Had to take to Anne's bed, I see." Lydecker-Mosby, smirking.

"Shut up, Ted…" Carpenter frowned. "Lieutenant, I want no stone unturned to find Robin's killer."

"We're turning a large one right now, Carpenter." Lydecker-Mosby, mockingly.

"Theodore…" Anne, grimly.

"Robin meant everything to me…" Carpenter continued…

"Job, roof over head, cash, cover for the affair with her aunt which provided…More cash…" Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"Knock it off, Waldo…" Carpenter glared. Lydecker-Mosby frowning at use of his hated middle name.


	7. Chapter 7

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehersal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wron g girl but the right best friend

Part VII…

The living room of Anne Treadswell, aunt of the late Miss Scherbatsky…

A woman now visibly annoyed by Detective Stinson's line of questioning…However much it might be amusing one Lydecker-Mosby, watching from his seat…

Ringside, as he'd just put it.

Miss Treadswell matched in her annoyance by that of her niece's erstwhile fiancée and, according to Lydecker-Mosby's snide comment, president of the New York Chapter of the Society for Indigent ex-Millionaires, Shelby Carpenter.

"Lieutenant, I'm having trouble seeing where questions about how I spend my money are useful in finding my niece's killer?" Anne frowned.

"Really? I'm finding them fascinating…" Lydecker-Mosby grinned.

"Waldo, you might consider leaving…" Carpenter glared. "Anne's not entertaining today."

"I'm quite entertained, dear boy." Smile.

"Well, let me ask and you may see a point to my questions…" Stinson eyed Anne sternly. ("God, look at my B-boy, all filmy noir and hard-boiled…" Robin cooed quietly to Lily. "Mom…" Barney Jr sighed. "Aunt Lily's great too, of course. But your dad is so…") "Did you approve of Miss Scherbatsky's coming marriage to Mr. Carpenter?"

Narrow stare…"Why? Shouldn't I approve?"

"I don't know, Miss Treadswell. What is your relationship with Mr. Carpenter?"

"What do you mean?" she stared, pulling back in her seat.

"Lieutenant, this line of questionin'…" Carpenter, slight drawl… "It's sounding like you actually think Anne might have had something to do with Robin's death…?"

("Herd them society doggies, pardner…" Robin grinned. Uh…To Lily's frown…"And he's doing it great…Just great.")

"She was the second person that we know of on the scene, after Cora." Stinson shrugged. "Got there rather quick, in fact. Were you sitting by your phone, waiting?"

"Oooh…You know I wondered about that myself…" Lydecker-Mosby smiled.

"It's not a long cab ride…"Anne, flustered. "She was my favorite niece, naturally I…I've given my statement to the other police…I was at home that evening."

"Alone?" Stinson, calmly.

"Yes, alone. Lieutenant? Just what are you trying to imply about me and my relationship to Mr. Carpenter?"

"What I mean is he's been a frequent guest in your home, long before Miss Scherbatsky met him. Is he an acquaintance, friend? Are you in love with him? Banging him? Cause in my playbook…" ("Destroyed, atomized, I swear…" aside to Robin's stare.) "…This doesn't read like a casual friendship."

"Lieutenant…!" Carpenter, annoyed.

"This is beginning to assume fabulous aspects." Lydecker-Mosby chuckled sneeringly.

"Oh, shut up, Ted!" Anne fumed. "What are you driving at?"

"The truth, Mrs. Treadswell. Are you in love with him?" Stinson pressed.

"Why, uh, no. I'm - I'm very fond of Mr. Carpenter, of course. Everybody is. He's a very lovable person."

"I'm not." Lydecker-Mosby, firmly. "I'll be hanged if I am."

"Oh, don't be so annoying, Theodore." Anne, striving to calm a bit now. "Oh, must I be insulted like this!" She stood suddenly, turned, and stepping back, halted. "It's just..Shelby needed some money and I lent it to him. That's all. Well, after all, it is my money. I suppose I can do as I please with it, especially where my niece's happiness is involved."

"Is that what was involved?" the detective eyed her.

"Now see here, Lieutenant…." Carpenter had risen from his seat. "I don't like these questions. Miss Treadswell was simply trying to help me get my footing, so that I could stand on my own two feet…"

"He hasn't done that since high school." Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"Waldo…I've had about all I'll take from you!" Carpenter moved his way.

"Steady…" Stinson came between the two.

(Uh…"It is clear here I'm a police officer and especially in 1944, it's not wise to slap a police officer, especially one just doing his duty not brutalizing innocent folks?" Barney, anxiously eyeing Marshall.

"It had better be." Robin, grimly.)

"Sorry." Carpenter relaxed. "But I don't see what possible matter it could be. I was to marry Robin, Anne wanted to help me clear a few debts." Carpenter, earnest tone. "I can assure you…Anne was only acting for Robin's sake. She's completely innocent and these questions are unfair and pointless."

"Jealousy's never a bad motive for murder, Carpenter." Stinson eyed him.

"You're suggesting, sir…That Anne would ever harm Robin, her favorite niece?" Carpenter, miffed.

"Ah, the ruined knight on somewhat less than white horse…Nice attempt but a bit overacted, Shelby. I give it two-and-a-half stars." Lydecker-Mosby. "But the lieutenant should be aware that this 'fiancee' business is something of a farce."

"Theodore. Everyone knows Robin was to marry Shelby." Anne, anxious look to Carpenter who seemed stunned now.

"I don't know that…" Lydecker-Mosby shrugged. "Robin had not definitely made up her mind to marry him. She told me so herself, last Friday when she called up to cancel our dinner engagement. As a matter of fact, she was going to the country to think it over. She was extremely kind, but I was always sure she would never have thrown her life away on a male beauty in distress."

Shelby, to Stinson, barely managing a thin smile. "I suppose you've heard losers whine before, especially in your profession, eh?"

"Maybe you were engaged and maybe you weren't." Stinson eyed him. "Maybe she decided to call it off and you decided to call off her calling it off…Or someone else did the calling it off, off, off."

"What?" Anne, Shelby…

"Such penetrating logic…No wonder our great city is utterly crime-free." Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"Oh, come on, Ted…You didn't understand that any better than we did." Anne fumed.

"You might very well think so…I choose not to comment." Lydecker-Mosby, archly.

"Are we done, Lieutenant?" Carpenter frowned. "Waldo here needs to leave, Anne needs her rest, and I…"

"Have utterly nothing to do." Lydecker-Mosby sneered. "Except to order a late breakfast."

"It so happens I have work to do." Carpenter glared. "With Robin gone, there's much to do at the office…Even on the weekend."

"Naturally." Lydecker-Mosby sneered. "Her office to steal and have your name put on, a pretty new secretary to 'interview'…And I imagine there's an urgent need to see that model you've been seeing on the side, what was her name? Diane Something?"

"You little…" Carpenter stepped again.

"Enough…" Stinson put out a hand… "Not worth it, Carpenter. Lydecker-Mosby, lay off. Just to finish what we're here for and conclude his questions, Shelby…I understand the night Robin was murdered you were at a concert?"

"That's right. I've a taste for classical music, starved of it as a boy."

"Oh, Lord…" Lydecker-Mosby rolled eyes.

"Could you identify the classical pieces of music that were played at the Friday concert?"

"Uh…Brahms _First_ and Beethoven's _Ninth_ , I think."

"Heaven forbid, a rustic Texan transplant with a taste for Brahms and Beethoven. Carpenter, you amaze me." Lydecker-Mosby.

"And you do have the key to Miss Scherbatsky's country house, where she may have gone that night, at first, to think?"

"I must defend the boy here, Lieutenant…" Lydecker-Mosby grinned. "I can't believe he ever could have carried her bloodied corpse back to her apartment."

"Didn't say that…" Stinson, coolly. "But if you went to see her there…And had…Words…Or just nailed her."

"Yes, I see…The wheels turn slow but they turn steadily, Detective. Yes, Shelby could have met her, argued over her abandoning his poor, helpless self…And when she refused to marry him…Case closed, well done, Detective." Lydecker-Mosby grinned.

"That's not at all what happened!" Carpenter insisted. "I would never harm Robin. And I was at the concert. I didn't see her at all that night."

"Lieutenant, this has been quite enough…" Miss Treadswell, sternly. "I think it's time you and Ted here left, unless you have anything valid to ask."

"No, I'm done…For now." Stinson nodded. "We'll see as to your stories."

"Ah, perfect. I can just make my table." Lydecker-Mosby beamed. "This is shaping up to be a red-letter day."


	8. Chapter 8

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehersal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wron g girl but the right best friend

Part VIII…

Thanks to the experience gained from my many years as a New York City detective and my years as Player King of 40s New York there are times in an investigation when I immediately know…People are hiding something…

With this group at Anne Treadswell's lavish apartment, the kid who delivers my coffee at the police station would've known.

The "loving" aunt, Miss Treadswell…Probably about as ready to go as any woman in man-starved 1944 Manhattan. Eyeing me from her settee with suspicion…Mixed with fear.

Usually the quick route to New Bang City…Sadly, far beyond my age range…

("Barney!" Robin pretended annoyance…Lily frowning at her, no fool is this Miss Treadswell.

"Just livin' my character, doll." Barney nodded to Robin, shrewdly. "Just livin' my character. Uh…" he eyed Robin's tearing face. "I'm just playing, honey. You know I'm not that guy any more. I mean, I am always awesome but good and faithful hus-bro awesome...Robin, oh, please don't cry." He went to her.

"God, I really had you going, didn't I?" she grinned. "You're not gonna cry when we do the scene in my apartment, are you?"

"Maybe…" steady gaze. "I know I would in real life if that ever happened."

"Oh…Barney…" she sobbed. "Oh, I love you so much.")

The 'devoted fiancee' Shelby Beauregard Carpenter, lapdogging it at Anne's feet, rather literally as he rubs them…Who seems far more devoted to the 'loving' aunt and her pile of money.

And our cynical friend, Lydecker-Mosby…Who does have a solid alibi but sure does raise my 'target acquired' 1944 submarine periscope image, here. ("Yeah, see kids, in 1944…" "Yeah, Dad…Uncle Ted…We know…") Yet does seem to have cherished Miss Scherbatsky, at least as a prized possession.

"You say you want Robin Scherbatsky's killer found, Carpenter?" Stinson fixed him with stare as Lydecker-Mosby rose to leave, anticipating the detective's departure...

"Of course he does..." Miss Treadswell insisted. Urging glance to Shelby…Pulling feet away.

"Of course I do..." Shelby echoed, trying to sound firm but failing.

"Ja, sure...Mein Fraulein Mistress." Lydecker-Mosby sneered. "Robin is no doubt touched, Shelby."

"Lydecker-Mosby? A little more of that and I show you how I got Machine Gun Aldrin's hideout out of one of her toughest boys with nothing but a rubber hose..." Detective Stinson noted calmly. "Carpenter? You wanna come with me to Miss Scherbatsky's place and give me a hand there?"

"I thought you and I gave the place the fine toothcombing earlier?"Lydecker-Mosby frowned. "Why would you need to do it again? And with this weak glass of oversugared tea…"

"Carpenter!" Stinson quickly blocked the angry Shelby rising now…

"Go ahead, Carpenter, take a swing…Nothing more incriminating than a man who must threaten those who would expose him." Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"I've done nothing!" Carpenter, fiercely, even as he stepped back. "I loved Robin, in my fashion, and she loved me, even if I was not the best of fiancées. I'll be happy to go with you, Lieutenant. Anything to get away from Waldo and his snake's tongue! And clear my name and Amne's…"

"So I'm Satan now? Well…" Lydecker-Mosby grinned. "Satan, as I recall, always told the truth up to a point. Perhaps you and Anne ought to consider such a course…Unless you have too much to conceal about your relationship."

"Waldo, get out!" Miss Treadswell cried, waving a hand. "I don't want you here! Lieutenant, please summon one of your men to remove this man, he's trespassing!" Shelby hurrying to take her hand as she wept, sitting by her.

"Anne…Bad move to lose your poise with the police in a murder investigation when you're a prime suspect. You ought to follow my example and display utter innocence at all times." Lydecker-Mosby raised a finger. "I was merely letting the Lieutenant see the real you and whatever Carpenter is… But I'm quite ready to leave if the Lieutenant would explain why a second visit so soon is necessary."

"We barely scratched the surface at the Scherbatsky place, besides a fresh pair of eyes who knew her better than anybody..." Stinson, shrugging with cool stare. "That's all Mrs Treadswell, I'll leave you for now. Carpenter?"

"No one knew Robin better than I, detective." Lydecker-Mosby frowned. "Well if my lunch date must be put off, I hope for your sake, it's worth it…"

Anne, urgent stare to Carpenter… Who stood up… "Of course I'll come, Lieutenant. Anything I can do for Robin."

"Cause he luved her oh, so much…" Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"Yeah?! Well, I didn't try to wear her like my white carnation, carry her about town like my walking stick, and drive her crazy always acting like she was my 'creation' or something. I treated her like a woman and she loved me for it!" Carpenter fumed.

"No offense, baby…" to Anne… "It was likely totally gonna be an open marriage…"

"Yeah, uh-huh, hello…" Lydecker-Mosby glared. "Cause she really wanted to be free to hang round with the Lydecker-Mosby, till he was ready to consider matrimony amusing."

"Get over yourself, Ted…" Shelby shook head. "She was."

"Boys…" Stinson frowned. "This is hardly New York City circa 1944 elite sophistication…I'd expected better from you two."

"Yes? Well, this Texan bag of meat started it." Lydecker-Mosby insisted.

"Me? It's you who keeps trying to insinuate I or Anne had anything to do with Robin's murder. If I didn't doubt you could figure out how, let alone manage, to fire a shotgun, I'd think you might be the killer trying to throw some shade, Waldo." Carpenter, angrily.

"It's Lydecker-Mosby to you, you male damsel in elegant distress!" fuming pause by both, then calming.

"Well, what a charming display of the primal…" he grinned. "Look at us, three of New York's most elegant if degenerate elite. I'm rather pleased to find we had it in us."

"Is everything a joke to you, Ted?" Anne fumed.

"Now, now…Lets pretend we haven't all read Freud and at least act civilized. So, guys? Lunch at the Algonquin, on me before we go over to Robin's? I'm rather starved after this energetic arguing…And I hate missing a chance to trade bon-mots with DeWitt. Come on now, Detective, you've got to eat and it'll only take an hour…Two at most." Eager look. "Chance to observe two of your suspects close up and meet some of the other members of the social circle I put Robin in, Lieutenant. And you are, for a NYPD detective, rather well suited up." Appreciative eyeing of suit.

"I'd sooner eat shit and die, Ted." Anne frowned. "Besides I have a fundraiser for the war effort at 2."

"Ok by me." Stinson shrugged. "Cool." Shelby nodded. "Anne, can I bring you back a doggie bag or something?" he turned to her.  
…..

The Algonquin Hotel Restaurant…Lydecker over by maître'd arranging a second table next to DeWitt's…Detective Stinson and Shelby Carpenter standing by…

"Quite the place, eh, Detective." Carpenter noted with smile. "Of course I realize on a police officer's salary you couldn't…"

"Yeah…They redid the wallpaper, nice. Trixie? How's tricks?" Stinson eyed a passing waitress carrying box of cigars, cigarettes and offering them and other sundries to various patrons…

"Barney? You're back from the Solomons?" the waitress eyed him. He smiled… "Admiral Halsey didn't need any more advice and there's an invasion of France that needs some ideas, doll."

Carpenter eyeing him with some annoyance…Waiting till the girl had moved on… "Really? You're claiming to be a soldier, Detective?"

"Certainly not…" Stinson frowned. "Civilian advisor…Which I actually have been."

"To Admiral Halsey, in the Pacific campaign?" Carpenter, really bro? expression.

"We go way back, chasing spies in the Brooklyn Navy Yards. Bill needed some suggestions regards intelligence gathering. I gather intelligence every day and am the best in NYC and, therefore, America, at my job. You want to see a copy of his letter of recommendation or Ike's request for my services this May for some intelligence preplanning for the invasion?"

"If I weren't somewhat ineffectual I might challenge you on that but I'm just a bit worried you might really have pulled this off." Carpenter, bemused.

"Carpenter, there are some things even a player and bro doesn't lie about, even to score. Wartime service, however limited, is one of them. But check with Lydecker-Mosby, he mentioned my civilian assist in his column about me."

Carpenter, narrow stare…

Still can't tell if he's lying and Waldo might back him up just for the hell of it to spite me.

"Fine, you have my apologes, Lieutenant."

"Not a problem…And if I end up arresting you for a brutal murder, I hope you'll understand it's nothing personal."

"All right, gentlemen, this way…I've procured us our seats, right next to my colleague, famed critic Addison DeWitt and my protégé, young JJ Hunsecker, a promising if somewhat grim columnist." Lydecker-Mosby had returned.

"Your protégé…?" Carpenter smiled at the crewcutted, bespectacled, hulking young man seated at table, then at Lydecker-Mosby. DeWitt eyeing them all with arch expression even as he greeted Carpenter.

"They certainly seem to get younger and more muscular each time…" Carpenter noted to Lydecker-Mosby's icy glare.

("Not that there would be anything wrong with that…" Marshall noted, moving to take seat as Hunsecker as Tracy, frowning, cut the video for the scene change, Lily rushing in with circa 1944 preppy college sweater which Marshall donned. "Oh, she's just bothered by the way Ted's getting into the prissy sorta gay thing." Robin noted. "Another crack like that in front of our kids and I may load that prop shotgun, Scherbatsky." Tracy fuming, hissed to her.)

"My dear Shelby, good to see you…" DeWitt smiled "Everyone our Ted meets is a potential protégé, you know that. Young Hunsecker just has a bit more potential than others."

"You're Stinson? The detective?" Hunsecker eyed Stinson carefully.

"That's right." Stinson nodded, taking seat.

"You've a fine record, though I have heard some rumors I can't say care for…" Hunsecker, grimly.

"Rumors of what, exactly?" Stinson, calming eyeing the hulking young man.

"Sorry, Lieutenant…" DeWitt smiled slyly. "Dear JJ here suspects everyone of being a Communist."

"The nation is infiltrated and honeycombed with them, many in positions of power." Hunsecker insisted. "I'm ferreting them out, on my own, for the greater good. Seems you support the liberal-Communist New Deal, Detective. Is that right?"

"My politics are my own business, kid." Stinson shrugged. "And your 'mentor' there has a good word or two on Mr. Roosevelt even in the couple of columns I've read, for the case…" at Lydecker-Mosby's eager beam.

"I keep an open mind and call them as I see them. My young colleague is perhaps a bit more rigid in his views." Lydecker-Mosby, fond beam at Hunsecker.

"So you've already replaced Robin, I see." Carpenter, sly smile to Lydecker-Mosby's glare. DeWitt smiling as well…

("Guys? This is a bit tiring having to run around the room changing like this…" Marshall noted. "It's all part of being an actor, Marshall…" Ted noted. "And you're getting to play two of the greatest columnist villains in the movies." "And doing it great, honey…" Lily, now in Eve Harrington gown and styled hair, beaming. "Yeah…How come I don't get another role here?" Robin frowned. "Hey, you know…As long as we're doing film noir guys from the 1940s…And we're doing a lunch scene at the famed Algonquin…" Ted, eagerly. "Which by the way, kids…")

An elegant yet somehow menacing figure at table near the DeWitt/Lydecker-Mosby party…

"Gilda, you know who that man over there is? That's Addison DeWitt the most powerful critic in New York seated by Theodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby, the most powerful columnist. I brought you here so they could see you, Gilda. They, like me, represent and worship, power." "Yes, right, Ballin. But who's the athletic dork in the glasses?" "Oh, that's JJ. Hunsecker, he's the up-and-coming heir."

"Ah, Mr. Ballin Mundson...Hem-ha...What an unexpected meeting? I'd thought you far too busy cozing to Nazis in Brazil."

"Caspar Gutman? I thought you were in Constantinople, pursuing the stuff dreams are made of?" Ballin, archly, eyeing the large…Extremely large…Man.

"A minor hitch, complicated by the war, sir. But, my associates and I have no doubt that we will acquire the little item we've spoken of, as soon as wartime restrictions are lifted, have no fear."

"Indeed. I look forward to a chance to examine it. Loving all precious things as I do…Speaking of which, my new wife, Gilda Mundson." "Ah, charming…" the large puffy man bowed over her hand.

("Come on Robin…Tracy wasn't getting any screen time at all…" Lily sighed as Robin glared at Tracy in Gilda costume…)

"I see you still have that little fellow Cairo hanging round…And that friend of my Johnny's? The young artist with a gun?" Ballin smiled, glancing over to where Joel Cairo, nervously greasy aide to Gutman and Wilmer Cook, a rather grimly furious-looking young man, were seated.

("You want to get those eyes bulging out, Ted." Barney called, temporarily handling videography. "I'm bulging as much as I can…I can't help myself!" Ted, in Peter Lorre accent.

"I still say it's scary how good Ted is at these creepy parts…" Lily hissed to Marshall…)

"It's that Spade guy again, over there..." Wilmer started to rise, feeling for gun in pocket. "This time I'm smokin' him and nobody's gonna stop me!" "No, Wilmer, don't!" Cairo, urgently. "That's only the hotel detective…Mr. Spade is in San Francisco!"

"Yes…" Gutman sighed slightly. "It's hard to get good help these days, though I feel towards Wilmer as I would my own son…"

"Pardon me, Caspar…I see an acquaintance I must say hello to…Gilda? Are you decent?"

"Our little joke, Mr. Gutman…" Gilda smiled. "Who, me?"

"Come along then, my dear…I have someone I'd like you to meet…"

"Alex, what a lovely place." The lovely brunette woman in fur at table nearby, a striking beauty of what could be called the Scandinavian type, cooed. ("I'm Scandinavian-looking?" Robin blinked at script.)

"Yes, my dear but not so lovely as you..." her kindly-looking, attentive companion noted fondly.

"It's just so wonderful to be back in New York" "Yes, indeed...But I hope you understand, my dear, that I do have some business matters to attend to regards Mr. Mundson and some patents he was holding for our industrial group. Mein Gott!"

"Alex? What is it, dear?" "I believe your Mr. Devlin has managed to follow us all the way from Rio." grim look. "Mr Devlin? Really?" repressed eager look round the room... "Yes. Could you perhaps explain..."

("Isn't anyone gonna do this 'Devlin'?" Robin asked. "I mean, I bet Barney would be le...Wait for it...Grantdary." beam to Barney, still in Mundson tux. "We can't fit every 40s actor in here, Robin..." Tracy hissed.)

"Alex, don't be jealous..." As Ballin Mundson approached from his table… "Ah, Mr. Mundson, how nice to see you again." "Mrs. Sebastian, Alex...So glad you could make it. May I present my wife, Gilda?" "Smoke him, I said!" "No, no, Wilmer...Don't do that!" the two figures rushing by...

"One meets all types here since the war started…" Ballin frowned.

"Nice place, isn't it honey?" "It oughta be, at these prices." grunt.

"Oh, now, honey, this is New York, the Big Apple, it's just the change we needed."

"Yeah." tersely, glum look round.

"Say isn't that Eve Harrington, the actress from the play last night at the entrance there?" "Is it?" shrug. "They all look the same to me."

"Yes, it is and she's sitting down with that theater critic, that Addison DeWitt. Oh, I just love reading his column back home. Oh, there's someone we know." the blonde woman in dark glasses, waves to two men passing near, one older turning to the other..

"Walter? I'm not feeling up to a fancy dinner, my dyspepsia's acting up again." "Keyes? Don't be an old woman, we're on company business in New York, on an expense account." "Not for long if we keep up this sort of thing." "One night, Keyes, you promised me that. Oh, look...Why? It's the Dietrichsons. Funny, they're being in NYC during our convention..."

"Mr. Neff? Hello!" wave.

"Oh, no...Not that Dietrichson." "Come on, Keyes, they're one of my biggest clients..."

"DeWitt...I read your latest critique. I was concerned. It showed an appalling sympathy for Communist values that could weaken this country." Hunsecker, grimly frowning, lantern jaw set. "Given the consistent lack of moral fiber in your commentary, it makes me wonder whether a man like you should be guiding the cultural course of this fine country. We need straight, true men with straight, true ideas as we come out of this war and face the challenges ahead."

"My dear boy..." DeWitt coolly eyeing him. "Given you are Theodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby's protege, any reference to 'straight'..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hunsecker glared. "Are you implying my father is..." Choking sound from DeWitt. Stinson and Carpenter at their table, listening, stunned expressions.

"Father?!"

"I'm afraid so...You read entirely too much into mannerisms and affectations, Addison." Lydecker-Mosby sneers. "Considering my unfortunate companion, Miss Scherbatsky...Who combined beauty, brains, and brio at a level that made your brewery girl, Eve Harrington look like...Oh, waitress?" he calls. "My friend DeWitt here needs a glass of water. And a new tie."

"Yes, sir..." nervous nod from lovely blonde waitress who hurries to bartender at bar…

"But who could you…Ever possibly?" DeWitt eyes Lydecker-Mosby. Stinson and Carpenter listening, still a bit non-plused, though Carpenter was eyeing Stinson carefully.

I'd say ole Waldo's just confirmed he might have had a decent motive for murder, eh Lieutenant?

"I resent that, DeWitt. My father is an upstanding American, a voice for all that's clean and true..." Hunsecker insisted, grim tone, hulking air of menace.

"Well…You remember Robin's aunt, Anne Treadswell?" Lydecker-Mosby noted. "The one who looks like the lesbian housekeeper in 'Rebecca'?" DeWitt stares. "Hunsecker was her maiden name before her first marriage."

Arch look to a suddenly gasping Shelby…

Anne? My Annie?

With…Him?

"Why that little…" Carpenter fumed. "Steady, man." Stinson cautioned. "You didn't know she and Lydecker-Mosby were once involved?"

"Oh, come on, Stinson, the man is flaming…" Carpenter, annoyed wave of hand.

"There, you see…Stereotypes. Always avoid, them, son." Lydecker-Mosby chuckled to Hunsecker who frowned.

"Carpenter, if it weren't my father's policy to gut with words rather than mash your opponents into the ground with fists…" Hunsecker glared.

"Now, my boy…" Lydecker-Mosby put up a hand in restraint. "Remember we have one of New York's finest with us. Who won't take kindly to talk of violence. And he already has me on the short list of suspects in Robin's death."

"That's ridiculous." Hunsecker fumed. "Not that my father isn't a reasonably virile all-American male with a debilitating heart condition and a slightly prissy manner. But, as I noted, heart condition. He couldn't kill anyone, especially that fine straight-as-a-post, all-American naturalized Canadian girl Miss Scherbatsky."

The waitress meanwhile waving the bartender, a slight, shifty-eyed fellow to her. "Frank...This is bad. If we offend Mr. DeWitt...We'll be fired and never have our chance to make something of ourselves here." "Don't worry, Cora. I've got a tie...It's a good one, the manager lent me it. Just go back and don't let anyone suspect anything."

("Hey guys! Do I ever get to join in?" Lily, standing off to the side awaiting her cue. "Bitchy ambitiously evil actress-controlled and humiliated mistress standing by…" plaintively.)

"So you knew Miss Scherbatsky as well, Mr. Hunsecker?" Stinson asked.

"Of course. She was my father's constant companion and friend." Hunsecker shrugged. "What are you implying, Detective?"

"Nothing. Just that you add something new to the case." Stinson noted.

"Now just a minute, Lieutenant…My son's not involved here." Lydecker-Mosby frowned.

"He knew the murder victim and it's curious you failed to mention him. Even your friends didn't know of him, I see."

"Understandable. Miss Treadswell and I realized we were not suited to each other and had the boy adopted, feeling it was best. We were very young…And foolish."

"I should have very much enjoyed seeing you then, Ted." DeWitt smiled. "Very young's indeed a different look for you. Myself, I was never young, I came forth fully formed and as despicable as those who know me say."

"Father did the right thing for me. I was raised by impeccably all-American, straight-arrow, salt-of-the-earth Coolidge-voting parents, in Minnesota. But, when I decided to pursuit a career in journalism, my parents contacted him…And as a good, straight and true American man should he took his responsibility upon him to help me get started." Hunsecker, scowling at the group in general.

"Miracles have not ceased, I see. A vituperative titmouse has spawned a rather irritable bull moose." DeWitt smiled.

"DeWitt." Grim tone. "Be glad a straight and true American doesn't take on old and soft opponents." Hunsecker darkly.

"You mean, like Spain?" DeWitt chuckled. "I think you ought to 'Remember the Maine' as they say."

Hunsecker rising in fury, fists clenched. "Oh, do go sit, Hunsecker…Or the detective here may take you for a mad dog and do his duty." DeWitt, sneeringly. Smile to Stinson.

"On your feet, you lousy rotten degenerate!" Hunsecker raging now…

"Careful, Addison…"Lydecker-Mosby noted with smile. "The boy packs quite a punch. Son, you'll gain nothing by breaking Addison's nose, he's had it done so three times and has a cast made up for him at Metropolitan Hospital."

"What's going on here?!" a gravely voice from a short, hard-faced muscular little man with dark hair and small mustache. "I hear a fight starting. I want in. Don't bother telling me about, I'm already half-sloshed, just point out who I hit."

"Go way, you Commie sympathizer." Hunsecker turned to face him and was hit in the mouth.

"Thanks." The little man nodded.

"And it's Hemingway…Ernest, I might have known." Lydecker-Mosby eyed the fierce little man.

"Back from Italy, Ernest? What news from the front lines? Oh, well…Don't let me interrupt…" DeWitt noted as Hunsecker now struck Hemingway in the face…

"Gentlemen…" Stinson called to the two now exchanging blows on the floor…Waiters and the summoned manager hurrying over.

"Gentlemen, there's a war on…!" the manager cried.

"Dirty, filthy… little…Communist…degenerate!" Hunsecker pounded at Hemingway as they rolled on the floor. "Everyone knows you can't write anything but short stories…Your illicit trollop Gelhorn writes your war copy!"

"Son of a bitch! You…Can't…Lay…A…Fin…Ooof!" Hemingway groaned at blow to the stomach.

"Perhaps we should take our after-lunch conversation on to Robin's place, Lieutenant." Lydecker-Mosby suggested to Stinton. "I'm sure my boy can handle himself and Ernest has had his head handed to him many times."

"As you like…" Stinson sighed as the table beside him collapsed from the weight of Ernest Hemingway's body striking it at just the right angle.

"I will have some questions for you later, Hunsecker…!" Stinson called as he, Ted, and Dewitt rose, Lydecker-Mosby summoning the anxious if lovey blonde waitress, Cora.

"Put lunch on the paper's account but any damage goes to Hemingway. Thank you, dear. Gentlemen, shall we be off?"

"I'll stay to watch the festivities, thanks." DeWitt noted. "Eve and I have an afternoon concert to attend and I rather feel the need for something less cerebral than a murder investigation." beaming as Hemingway crashed into another table.

"Oh, dear..." Mrs. Dietrichson pulled back from the smashed table and Hemingway's staggering form. "Get out of here, drunken fool!" Mr. Dietrichson groused. "Phyllis? We're going right now!"

"Aw, honey..."

"You know Mr. Dietrichson, this is just the sort of thing a good life insurance policy would come in handly for you...Well, at least your wife and family..." Neff, seated by Dietrichson and rising with him, as did Keyes, hastily.

"Not now, Neff..." Dietrichson fumed. "Yeah, but just suppose that man had fallen on you and killed you or as more likely, broken his own neck...Our double indemnifying policy could..."

"Walter, Walter...Time and place..." Keyes hissed.

…..


	9. Chapter 9

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehersal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part IX…

At the entrance to the Algonquin's dining room, the nervous blonde waitress had brought Lydecker-Mosby his receipt to sign…Offering pen at his request.

"What, no Rolling Righter?" Stinson eyed him. "I'd've thought you'd always be taking notes for your column."

"Actually I do occasionally take notes." Shrug. "But I prefer to use a pencil which can be erased. So often I find my imagination tells the story far better than the drab facts. But for the rough draft of my column…" smug look…

Shelby, by Stinson, rolling eyes. Here it comes, again…

"…I don't use a pen. I write with a goose quill dipped in venom." Arch smile.

"I get that." Stinson, drily, looking to see Hemingway flying across the room, pursued by Hunsecker. "I think Mr. Hemingway's not going to be turning in any writing soon after this."

"Oh, he'll turn this into a great pugilistic victory for him." Lydecker-Mosby sneered. "His stock-in-trade, like most authors is fiction…Especially when he claims to be autobiographical."

"And you?" the detective eyed him coolly.

"Why, Lieutenant, I always get my facts straight. How I present them and which ones I choose to present is my stock-in-trade. Well, I think my boy has the situation well in hand as they say. Shall we? Unless…As a police officer you feel compelled to intervene?" All three looking to see Hemingway crashing into a dessert cart, waiters urgently trying to rush in and contain the scene.

"Not really. The management's got its own dicks and some of the boys should be coming…Ah…" Stinson indicated the two policemen entering the room. "In fact, I'd rather not get bogged down here, so lets go." He rose, flashing a badge to one of the cops who'd eyed him a moment on his rising and now nodded.

"Always nice to have a police escort. Come along, Shelby…Lets go relive the grisly events once more. Should be easy for you." Sneer.

"Waldo, for that we lynch people back home. I think you better apologize, for Robin's sake, right now." Carpenter eyed him coldly.

"So glad you've acquired such a veneer of civilization, then, dear boy." Smile. "For Robin's sake, I apologize." Lydecker-Mosby gave slight wave of hand.

…

The courtyard outside the front door to Robin Scherbatsky's Upper West Side apartment...

"So..." Stinson looked round… "She hears the doorbell and comes to the door...Opens it...And right here..." he indicated the doorway landing to his companions… "Bang-bang-bangity bang..."

"Bang-bang-bangity bang…?" Carpenter, in some nervous horror, Lydecker-Mosby frowning.

"And what isn't spattered around the door and hallway drops dead here..." Stinson continues. "In a bloody heap..."

("Aunt Lily and I said you could go watch 3DTV back here while we shoot this scene and you're gonna watch 3DTV in here!" Tracy's firm voice from the guest bedroom. "Yeah and until they need me again I'm stayin' right here to help make sure, with your mom/aunt." Ted's voice. Barney, Marshall, Lily, Robin on videocamera all rolling eyes.

"You got it?" Marshall eyed Barney who grinned. "One can of fake gore, coming up..." "Smear some fake Robin guts right where Ted can see as he comes in..." Lily enthused.

Though really, Tracy might have stayed on video duty while I watched the kids and protected them from this gruesome memory, Robin thought, averting eyes from said fake guts smears. "Ted!" Barney called. "We need you out here in a minute! Honey, keep the camera on your guts..." he hissed to Robin.

Wait, Robin thought. What woman wouldn't want to see her ex-rival's, now totally good galpal's guts smeared all over the place unless…?

"Tracy doesn't trust me alone with Ted? Even with all the kids around?" she hissed to Lily.

"Honey, if it was me Waldo'sshotgun would be loaded for a tragic accident in our last scene." Lily hissed back. "Keep that camera on those guts.")

"Look, there's still a bit we didn't see yesterday..." Stinson noted to a shriek.

("No, keep Ted's shriek...We can use it as Shelby's." Barney noted to Robin. "I promise, if these were real, my blown-out guts would laying on top of them shortly, darling." he eyed her.

Ohhhh...She cooed.)

"Carpenter, do get hold of yourself..." Lydecker-Mosby glared. ("Nice shrieking, Ted. Thanks for helping my character set the mood." Marshall grinned.) "And Lieutenant, I know for a fact your men cleaned all this up well before, there was none of this around the other day."

"No, there wasn't. But it helps sometimes to get the feel...Don't worry, Carpenter, Mr. Lydecker-Mosby is quite right, I had this fake gore planted."

"A child's prank, Lieutenant." frown by Lydecker-Mosby.

"Yeah, well it was awesome...Plus as I said, it gives you boys and any others I'll bring the feel of the murder. After all, one of you is a killer and had at least a brief glimpse of it all...The spatter..." \

"Detective..." Carpenter sighed.

"The gore..."

"Really?" Lydecker-Mosby, annoyed tone.

"When a dame gets killed, she doesn't care how she looks...So…The bloody, unrecognizable heap...Dripping with gore..." ("Barney!" "Sorry, hon...And Marshall wrote this..." "No, I did..." Lily beamed.)

"It wasn't..." Carpenter began. The other two eyeing him.

"Really, Shelby? Do tell? First-hand knowledge, eh?" Lydecker-Mosby chuckled. "Forgive me, Lieutenant, I'll never question your rather brutal but productive methods again. You have your man, sir."

"I saw police photographs...Anne and I helped identify the heap...Body." Shelby, anxiously to Stinson.

"That might pass..." Stinson nodded coolly.

"Feel that ole noose tightening...All those lynching victims from your old home stomping grounds eagerly watching from the beyond to enjoy one of them getting their own." Lydecker-Mosby, archly.

"That was our neighbors, we never lynched anyone!...On our property. Oh, just shut up, Waldo!" Carpenter fumed. "Detective, I've explained how I knew this stuff was fake, can we go in and get this over with?"

"We should...No doubt our intrepid detective will need to take dear Anne down gory memory lane later." Lydecker-Mosby smiled.

"No...Lieutenant?" a horrified Shelby stared. "You can't do that to Anne...After all she's been through."

"Such gallantry, makes one almost weep." Lydecker-Mosby grinned. "But a fine motive for murder in either of the lovers' cases, eh, Stinson?"

"Leave the conclusions to me, Lydecker-Mosby." Stinson, coolly. "If I need to bring Miss Treadswell here, I will, Carpenter. Whatever I have to do to solve this case. You want to avoid that, confess right now. Either of you..." hard stare to both… "Come on, lets go in."

"What's the matter, Waldo? That air-tight alibi looking full of hot air?" Shelby sneered as they entered.

"Mine's not based on my lover's swearing I was with her, part of the evening...With plenty of time to drop by and say hi to your so-called fiancee." Lydecker-Mosby returned, snidely.

"By the way, Carpenter..." Stinson had halted in the open door. Mind that spatter on the doorframe, boys, that's real. "Do you happen to have a key to Miss Scherbatsky's lakeside house? The one where she kept a shotgun over the mantlepiece?"

"Dum-de-dum-dum..." Lydecker-Mosby intoned.

….

"I'd almost forgotten how beautiful she was..." Shelby, staring up at the portrait of Robin as the three men stood in the living room.

"And I never could, portrait or no..." Lydecker-Mosby, solemn for once as he stared up.

"And you may measure our respective devotion, Lieutenant. The grieving fiancee has all but forgotten Robin in a week, whereas I..." pause as Carpenter reddened yet again. "But we mustn't forget our new devotee to the cult of Robin. Did you know, Carpenter…" smile at Stinson… "...that our diligent champion of the law, our hard-boiled dame-commitment averse detective, is a closet romantic? Oh, yes..." grin. "I heard that you put in a bid for Robin's portrait, Stinson...And if I may indulge my own bent for detection, amateur that I may be, I believe I spy a suitcase with men's clothing in the guest bedroom. What, have you taken up residence?"

"I'm staying here while the case is underway, for a few days." Stinson nodded.

"Is that normal police procedure?" Carpenter blinked.

"In 1944, son, normal police procedure is what we cops say it is." Stinson eyed him.

"Well, given the wartime housing shortage, I can't blame you for seizing the day and Robin's rent-controlled apartment..." Lydecker-Mosby noted with frown… "But I think I must object to a certain lack of proper decorum."

"You want the case solved...Or so you said?" Stinson, calmly.

"Of course...But I fail to see..."

"It helps me to know her and her murderer to stay here. Besides, it's not that unusual for a murderer to return to the scene of the crime. They nearly always either want to see their handiwork and how cleverly they covered it up or...They left something behind."

"Behind? Really?" Lydecker-Mosby, affecting a calm snideness…

"You don't mean the murder weapon your people haven't found?" Shelby asked.

"That or almost anything...A book, a watch, a monogrammed handkerchief...A tieclip..."

"Yeah, I saw that in a film once..." Shelby nodded. "The tieclip nailed him, the killer I mean."

"But the question is, did you find said evidence as yet, Lieutenant?" Lydecker-Mosby, rather more genuinely calmly now.

"Not as yet..."

"I see...Well, perhaps we should, as you policemen quaintly say, 'turn the place over'?" Lydecker-Mosby, moving to sofa and giving slight push. "Nothing here."

"I prefer to do the searching on my own, thanks." Stinson noted. "Best to leave things as they were. The context can matter."

"Really? I'd no idea of the complexity of your work..." Lydecker-Mosby, amused now. "I'd thought it was merely a matter of wading through a little gore..."

"Must you, Waldo?" Shelby sighed.

"...then grabbing everyone the victim knew and beating answers out of them with that famed rubber hose of yours."

"Sometimes. And sometimes we're a bit more subtle." Stinson noted, coolly.


	10. Chapter 10

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehersal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part X…

Apartment of Robin Scherbatsky…

A somewhat disappointed Lydecker-Mosby and somewhat puzzled Shelby Carpenter having spent an hour with Detective Stinson sitting in the murdered girl's apartment as the detective quietly moved about, eyeing different items carefully, looking into drawers…

"Lieutenant if you have nothing further for me right now…?" Carpenter spoke up.

"In a hurry?" Stinson paused. "I won't keep you."

"The devoted fiancee..." Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"I do have things to attend to, Waldo..." glare. Then a sigh to Stinson… "I don't mean to be rude but if you're not going to ask me any questions...Or let me assist you?" Carpenter eyed the detective who shrugged.

"Maybe you are now...Maybe not." another shrug. "Anyway I have to get this case in order and you are one of the pieces."

"Quite a hefty one..." Lydecker-Mosby chuckled. "Oh, can't you see the man is waiting for you to expose yourself, Carpenter? He's just waiting for you to crack like an eggshell under the pressure and what better place for it than the scene of the crime...I of course being the necessary witness to your confession of guilt."

Carpenter, furious now… "And why wouldn't I be here to see your response, Waldo?" he raged.

"Because I already saw how Lydecker-Mosby acted when here alone with me..." Stinson noted quietly.

"And I passed with flying and innocent colors..." Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"I wouldn't go that far..." Stinson eyed both men. "In fact I would say it's very clear both of you are hiding something."

"Detective? All we've been through together and you think me capable of subterfuge…? Lydecker-Mosby, chuckling tone.

"I can't speak for Theodore, Lieutenant but I'm hiding nothing and resent the implication that I am." Shelby fumed.

"Fine..." Stinson shrugged. "Then where is your key to Robin's country place on Long Island?"

Carpenter nervously staring back...

"Ah there we are, the missing element...Excellent job, Detective Stinson." Lydecker-Mosby beamed wickedly. "It appears you've been laid on the carpet, Carpenter."

"I don't have the key...I never asked and Robin never gave me one. It was her private retreat, after all. And unless you want more violence on this scene, Lieutenant..." Carpenter eyed Stinson, his glance indicating the leering Lydecker-Mosby.

"You're right...Time to go Lydecker-Mosby." Stinson eyed Theodore who frowned.

"Why should I go? And why aren't you concerned about the key? Carpenter is obviously lying." he insisted.

"Because I said so. And because I choose to accept Carpenter's answer as satisfactory for now. Now it's time for you to go..." Stinson eyed Lydecker-Mosby who'd drawn himself to his own perception of a confrontation pose.

"Thank you, Lieutenant..." Shelby nodded. "I appreciate it."

"Nothing to appreciate, fortunately your answer fits the little I know of the victim…" Stinson, drily.

"This is foolish, Stinson. You need me..." Lydecker-Mosby glared.

"When I do, you'll be first to know. Good afternoon, Mr. Lydecker-Mosby."

"Yes, go Ted. Your snake's tongue will no longer be..." Carpenter began.

"You're going too, Carpenter." Stinton noted quietly.

"But..." Carpenter, confused.

"Imagine...A man so craven for the spotlight he would encourage a police detective to consider him a suspect in a brutal kiiling." Lydecker-Mosby sneered,

"Seems about right for you, Ted!" Carpenter growled.

"Boys..." Detective Stinton frowned. "Let yourselves out, please… I have work to do."

Carpenter and Lydecker-Mosby looking at each other.

"I can't understand why you drag us out to these places..." Carpenter began.

"I like the company." Stinton, drily.

"Not worth explaining...Psychology is over his head, Stinson." Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"Enough, Waldo!" Shelby hissed, then, calming turned to Stinson. "Well, if you truly don't need me I'll be off."

"I'm coming right along, Carpenter..." Lydecker-Mosby called.

"No need as I've no intention of sharing a car with you." Carpenter noted.

"Ah, so Anne left you flush with cash this morning..." innocent gaze.

"Anne is only trying to help me as her beloved niece's fiancee. She loved Robin as I did." pleading to Stinson.

"That I do believe..." Lydecker-Mosby smiled. "Now, now...Don't incriminate yourself anymore than you have, Carpenter..." As Shelby moved on him and Stinson again blocked his path.

("Wait, cut or whatever." Tracy noted. "Gotta reload here."

"Wow…" Lily stared at the two men. "You guys really got that confrontation thing goin' there. Nice job." She eyed them. "Yeah, we really got a yin-yang going between our antagonists." Ted beamed. "Yeah…Great yin-yang, Marshall…?" Lily pulled at him, leading him to a corner.

"Is there anything wrong…Between you and Ted?"

"What? No…Well, I did think his little fantasy about Robin and him was mean to Tracy but no, course not. But I told Ted to do his 'Waldo' ala Barney. See, everytime 'Waldo Ted' and 'Shelby' have a spat, I just imagine Barney at his old most obnoxious when I really wanted to slap him silly. And that does it…"

"Oh, good…" she beamed.

"Though I will say it was mean to Tracy…" he frowned. "And now, given Barney's such a good guy since he and Robin finally hooked up, I feel like I've been a little unfair to him because of Ted."

"Oh…" she sighed.

"But no, Ted's still my best buddy. Even if he made the sweet mother of his children cry because he couldn't stop mooning after some fantasy he doesn't even really want…" slight frowning… "And even now she's being such a trooper and wonderful girl putting up with all this while he seems to be completely happy with his little star performance and history lectures and totally oblivious to what she's going through here to help him exorcise his demons."

"Yeah…O…K…Just don't lose it and pound Ted's face into the wall later…I mean, at the climax and all."

"You think I would do that?" he eyed her.

"I think 'Shelby' might…Cause the guy playing him cares so much about people he loves." Lily beamed, patting him. "But don't sell Ted too short. I think he is feeling this too. Much as he loves playing 'Waldo Ted'."

"Scary isn't it? How good he is at a darkly Barneyesque character?" Marshall, worried tone.

"We always knew there was a little Barney in Ted…" Lily pointed out. "Though lets not put it all on Barney. There's a dark streak in Ted…He was never all, 'oh, no, I only seek peace and love and acceptance'. He resented all the women who didn't find him irresistible and put him through Hell."

Marshall eyeing her… "Doesn't mean I don't love Ted and think he's a great guy." She noted. "Just maybe that shotgun should be not only fake but nerf foam for the last scene."

"Maybe we should call Stella sometime…" Marshall noted. "See how she's doing…Like if she's still alive and wasn't bludgeoned to death over the last couple of years…"

"Already did…" Lily, nodding. "She's fine. Ted's come to see it as a narrow escape from life in New Jersey.")

"Anne is only trying to help me for Robin's sake." Carpenter, angrily.

"Such devotion to a dead niece…" sneering grin.

"Such disgusting behavior toward the mother of your own son…" Shelby countered. "Where I hail from…"

"Bug Tussle, S.C., no doubt…" Lydecker-Mosby, sneer.

"Enough, Carpenter…" Stinson grabbed Shelby as he lunged at Ted, who stepped back calmly. "That won't accomplish anything. Go home and I'll call you when I have any more questions." the detective noted. "You get going as well, Lydecker-Mosby." He turned to Ted.

"Only too happy if you'll promise to keep me informed, Detective."

"You'll hear about it as soon as anyone..." Stinson nodded.

"Fair enough...Well..."

The doorbell rang.

"Wait, Lydecker-Mosby..." Stinson commanded as Ted turned to the door… "Let me get it."

"Of course..." Ted paused. "After all, who knows…It could be a special delivery of the murder weapon…" arch smile. "Well, partially right, it is for you, Carpenter." He noted as Stinson opened the door to reveal a somewhat anxious-looking Anne Treadswell.

"Mrs. Treadswell..." Stinson greeted Anne Treadswell at the door.

"Anne? What are you doing here?" Shelby stepped over, anxious and eager…

"How could she stay away…With you here?" Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"Shelby?" eagerly…"Lieutenant..." calmly... "Ted?" grimly. "I'd no idea anyone would be here except perhaps Cora."

"I'd imagine so, given the police warning signs. This is a crime scene, Mrs. Treadswell, no access except police...And escorted persons." Stinson noted. "I'm sure you saw the notices."

"We're the escorted...VIP in my case, though Carpenter here is just the suspect..." Lydecker-Mosby sneeringly. "Though surely he told you we were coming over here…?"

"Shelby? Lieutenant is this true?" Anne, a bit distraught.

"Not at the moment. Lydecker-Mosby is just having his fun. Mr. Carpenter is here as a material witness. I have to ask you again, ma'am..." Stern look over his awesome features, broken only by a quickly appraising glance.

("Didn't he 'appraise' her at her place?" Marshall frowned. "One 'appraisal' is plenty, Barney." "Agreed." Robin nodded, stern glance at Barney. "Guys, just fleshing the character..."

"Great job by the way, Lilypad. You seem both devoted and treacherously devious…" Marshall noted to a beaming Lily. "People are sure to suspect you."

"I could have done it…As Dame Judith would say." she nodded.

"And I believe that…" Marshall beamed.)

"...why are you here knowing the place is off-limits."

"You brought the others in...Being I'm Robin's sole living relative, I assume I can come in as well. Though I'd just wanted to check on things here."

"Things tall and Texan?" Ted smiled.

"Very funny, Waldo..." Anne glared. "As a matter of fact I wanted to check on Robin's things. I am her aunt you know and the executor of her will. I need to review what's here."

"Planning to hold a garage sale…For a certain needy ex-millionaire?" Lydecker-Mosby eyed her.

"Some of these things are quite valuable, Lieutenant." Anne, ignoring Lydecker-Mosby. "I felt you wouldn't mind my checking in, perhaps securing some of the more valuable items."

"Before Carpenter pawns them? Or are you handling that for him, given his general helplessness about the world?" Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"Oh, go away, Waldo." Anne hissed. "Lieutenant, this man has no business being in my niece's apartment even if he is assisting you."

"I see. He's not. But he is useful to my investigation and so long as he is, and he's with me, he has business here. And I'm afraid while I don't mind myself your being here, I can't let you interfere with the investigation. You'll have to leave." Stinson insisted.

"I don't see why? I'm Robin's aunt and surely have as much importance to your investigation as Waldo here..." Anne fuming a bit.

"No, you don't, not at this time anyway." Stinson, firmly. "When I need you I'll call you in. But you can take Carpenter home."

"But what about Robin's things?" Anne frowned.

"They're accounted for. You'll be able to trace anything that seems to go missing..."

"Ridiculous...These are my things, mostly...Robin left them to me to decide what to do with them where she'd not specified bequests."

"Did you get a signature from her cold dead hand as she lay there...?" Lydecker-Mosby sneered.

"That's it, Waldo…!" Carpenter moved on him. Stinson, apparently annoyed as well, swinging back to jab Lydecker-Mosby in the stomach, Ted curling up in pain.

("Guys… 'insufficient curling, do it again?'" Ted stared, groaning. Tracy, annoyed glance at Barney as she helped Ted up.

Jesus…I'm don't care if you're still mad at him…You pull that again…Her look saying.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to jab that hard, Ted." Barney sighed.

Robin, offering him secretively coy smile…You…

You want some too, Scherbatsky? Tracy's icy glance herway.)

"About time..." Anne, grimly, staring at the figure on the floor.

"I've had worse in pursuit of my duties..." Lydecker-Mosby shrugged, gasping for breath, struggling to his feet with the detective's help. "Though I may choose to file a complaint. You were witnesses."

"I didn't see a thing…Anne?" Shelby, smiling thinly.

"I'd say you tripped, Waldo." Anne, returning smile.

"Be glad I did it and not Carpenter…" Stinson hissed to him. "Sorry, but you had it coming." He said, audibly. "Now stop the nonsense and go home." He whispered. "Or I will let Carpenter pound you to a pulp."

"Fine…" Lydecker-Mosby frowned, waving off the detective's arm offered in support. "But if we are cataloguing Robin's things, I should point out a number of the pieces are mine and I'll take them, now. That vase, for instance…" he indicated a lovely glass vase on the living room coffee table. "…is mine." He moved to pick it up.

"Don't be absurd." Anne frowned. "You gave that to Robin."

"A loan only…As was the porcelain clock in the hallway and several other items. I'll be taking the vase now, it's the gem of my collection. I'll be back for the rest with a mover." He stepped to the table to pick up the vase. Anne moving to block him. The detective frowned at both..

"Everything stays where it is." Stinson ordered.

"Now see here, Stinson…" Lydecker–Mosby frowned.

"Not a thing moves without police approval, namely mine." The detective shook head.

Dang…Anne frowned. I guess that means grabbin' those puppies in her shoes closet is out as well…

"Time you all left. I'll call you when I need you." Stinson noted firmly.

"I think I may have to discuss this high-handedness with your superiors, Detective." Anne frowned.

"If you like…" he shrugged. "But you're the one who tried to enter a sealed apartment to remove objects…"

"Anne…" Shelby had come to her. "The detective will see alls safe. We should go."

"Sounds very suspicious to me…" Lydecker-Mosby chimed in as he moved to the door. "I'd say that I'm satisfied my things are safe under police protection, for the moment. You need not fear, Anne. Your would-be robbing of the corpse is only delayed. Detective Stinson is sure to be an adequate security guard."

"You're staying here?" Anne eyed Stinson, pausing with Shelby at door.

"Just part of the investigation…" he noted. "I'll be in touch."

Anne frowned but let Shelby lead her out.

"Yes…" Lydecker-Mosby paused at the door. "Since I see you wish to commune with Robin's ghost, Lieutenant, I'd just offer a word of caution. She can ensnare you very easily, despite or perhaps because of her innocent perfection. You will find yourself in that psychiatric ward I mentioned if you don't take care."

"Good evening, Lydecker-Mosby..."

"Do you see Robin as your wife, on your arm at the Policeman's Ball, greeting a motley collection of your fellow brutes in blue?" snide smile. "I see you do. Well, what a pity you couldn't have stood a chance with her living, but at least you can abuse her corpse in your fantasies to your heart's delight."

"I think our day's excursion is through, Mr. Lydecker-Mosby." Stinson, calmly.

"For today, Lieutenant. But as I said, I mean to see justice done and Robin's degradation and abuse avenged. I owe her memory that much. Believe me, you'll see me again. Gracias, as the Latins say for another fascinating day with our gallant police."

"I don't doubt it." Stinson eyeing the figure as it left the building, door closing behind.

I had to leave the apartment and walk after Lydecker-Mosby and the others left, to clear my mind and think… I paced the streets, unable to get what I'd seen and heard of this woman out of my head. The thought ever occurring to me…

I'd met the woman of my dreams and she was dead.

Lydecker-Mosby was right, I was headed for a psychiatric ward, if I didn't get hold of myself…


	11. Chapter 11

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehearsal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part XI…

Back at the Scherbatsky apartment, I poured myself a bourbon straight and walked through the rooms, trying to get a sense of the murdered girl. Her portrait spoke of her beauty and her poise and strength but didn't convey the innocence and supportive affection everyone whom I'd dealt with on the case, even the cynical Lydecker-Mosby, had first mentioned in any description of her, long before describing her beauty or her wit or sophistication…

(Ohhhh…Robin cooed. "Though…? You think I should be jealous of fictional Robin?" she hissed to Lily. "Sort of as a way to practice and keep Barney on his toes, I know he loves me more than any fantasy. Unlike, some people…" she glanced Tedward.)

Stopping by her desk I picked up the phone and checked in with the boys downstairs in the building's basement where we had set up a wiretap in case anyone called to, or even, from the woman's place. Standard procedure? Yeah, for wealthy white high-society types whose killer the Commissioner is under political pressure to nail…For some poor maid, black or white, strangled in an alley?…Uh, sure. I mean if Cora, Robin's maid, had answered the door, she'd probably still be splattered about the front doorway, with my junior colleague Junior in charge of the "investigation"…Only to please her high-society employer, Miss Schebatsky, that there was one detective on the case at all. The first homeless drunk in the environs fingered as the killer to make the Department look effective. And if Cora had been black or Latino or Asian…

("I like 1944 less now." Lily sighed.

"If it's any comfort I doubt the police today would go to a lot of trouble for that barista Marshall hung out with when you broke up…Or even Wendy the Waitress until she finished school and became an international businesswoman with a large bank account and powerful friends." Barney noted. "Now you, Lil…Marshall being a judge and all…And you having two wealthy close friends with connections demanding justice…Royal treatment if you should ever get your head blown off."

"Thanks…" Lily frowned.)

But regardless of my musings, my duty was clear…To sort out the threads here and find the killer. Avenge this poor girl who I would've banged in a hot minute had the Fates not been so cruel and relentless. Curse you, Fates…It woulda been so…Wait for it…Legendary!

But as 'Ted' had warned me, it wasn't a shortage of suspects that was the problem…

Shelby Carpenter, the 'loving' 'fiancée' (Likely…Hopefully, I admit I felt, Lydecker-Mosby being right about that 'fiancée' thing being moot.) with a need for financing and a taste for older supportive women. And whose alibi rested largely on said older supportive woman.

Anne Treadswell, the 'loving, devoted' (yeah, right) aunt with a penchant for tall younger men in need of an older supportive woman who made few demands and provided cash up front. And whose own alibi rested on said tall younger 'fiancée' of her niece who'd met him while he was under said Anne's protective wing and who was so happy to have brought the love birds together. Clearly so happy she'd been the instrument for bringing the two together… First on the scene after the maid called it in and…Yeah, ready to give her niece a two barrel salute of congratulations on her engagement…

Theodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby, the mentor and clearly much more, whose taste might seem odd but clearly had a proper appreciation for one Scherbatsky's hot bod both pre- and post-Pygmalion style do-over. New York socialite Henry Higgins ("You know the play and movie 'Pygmalion' were both big long before 'My Fair Lady' came to …" "Yes, Dad." Sigh…) to Robin's Canadian Eliza. And clearly obsessed with the girl…Though he seemed to have been genuinely in love with her…And he had a solid alibi, making a broadcast that evening.

Cora the maid…Least likely of the original four, still…A very obsessed type. And not the first time, as I'd said to Lydecker-Mosby, one of that sort had killed over some slight or falling off of pedestal… Say the lesbian sex had been cut off suddenly?

("Barney?!" Marshall… Ooooh…Lily cooed… "Uh, yeah…Barney!")

And she'd been first at the scene…But not really the type to do this kind of clean job.

I mean concealing the murder weapon and covering her tracks, not about the splatter of course which was totally gross, killer…Whoever you are.

No, this was a sophisticated killer. Someone able to control themselves after their act of passion and take the steps necessary to protect their miserable lives.

("Bringing him back to me, I'd say!" Marshall, eagerly. "Well, I mean my motivation as Shelby is clearly self-preservation first." He noted to the stares.)

Then there's the new boy in town…Lydecker-Mosby's son, Hunsecker…Clearly fond of Robin, more for her dull, plodding Canadian… ("Hey, hus-bro!" "Character, wife-bro…Great uncle Barney is pure NYC American, unlike yours truly who can get in touch with his Canadian side.")…Straight-arrowness. Just the sort to get all kooky on finding Robin Scherbatsky not quite the innocent straight arrow he'd believed her to be. And as yet no word as to his alibi…

And of course the random homeless drunk, pressing the pretty lady's bell to once again demand his usual ration from her kindness of food, drink, or cash, being refused by an impatient Robin, and conveniently having a shotgun at hand…? No, not likely…Though in 1944 NYC? Not impossible.

And assorted Nazi or Jap spies on the lam, exposed by the woman's skill and savvy, angry black or other minority people, feeling insufficiently appreciated, etc, etc…Again, though, somewhat ruled out by the use of shotgun.

Though again, in 1944 NYC? A shotgun not all that hard to obtain…

Well, best to have another hit of bourbon, and sleep the stupor off in this lovely armchair…Then take a new crack at this tomorrow. He took a long pull…

God, this really is a great place…Wonder if it'll be on the market after the funeral? I'd bet it's even rent controlled. He fell into a deep and dreamless, or so it seemed, sleep.

To be awoken, suddenly and with considerable shock by the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door… He rose quickly, feeling for his pistol in his holster.

The door opened and in stepped an elegant-looking figure in a chic raincoat and hat…Robin Scherbatsky.

She stared at him as he stared wide-eyed at her, he rubbing his eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehearsal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part XII…

Apartment of Robin Scherbatsky, late night…

I've faced Death, the big guy, not a few times…It's a part of my line and I accept it as the price of doing legend…Wait for it…ary feats of detection, surveillance, and policing that have won me accolades and the yes of numerous dolls worth a bang. I've been on the receiving end of guns and knives and blows intended to fell a man, not always offered by a man…

But I'd never faced Death cheated…That was new.

Though the gun barrel now pointed at me by the suddenly resurrected Miss Scherbatsky was fairly routine…

"You mind pointing that somewhere else? Miss Scherbatsky, I presume?" I asked.

"I asked what you were doing in here…?" Robin stared at the detective…Recovering now from his initial shock to some degree of calm.

"You…You're alive?" myself, rising from the armchair.

"Tell me what you're doing in my apartment or I'm calling the police. Or shooting you, whichever works."

"I am the police." I explained. She regarding me suspiciously.

"Here, let me show you my badge…" And then, something else…I noted to myself. Mental high-five…

"Pull it out…(Barney?!)…Slow…" Robin frowned, waving gun. "Show it to me."

I pulled out my badge and showed it to her…

("God, Barney! Cut!" Tracy cried.)

"Ok…It's not as big as I expected." Smile…

("Robin?!" Tracy cried.)

"…But it looks like a police badge. Who are you?"

"I'm Detective Lieutenant Stinson…"

"The legendary detective hero?" she eyed me…Up and down, clearly taking inventory of awesomeness.

"That's me, dropped dead gorgeous…" nod.

"Thanks." She beamed. "Wait? 'Dropped'…? What's that mean? And why are you here? Was my place robbed or something? Oh, God, they didn't get Ted's supposedly priceless junk things? He'll never let me hear the end of it."

"Not robbed but…Something." I nodded. "Don't you know? Where've you been?"

"I was at my lake house in Long Island…What do you mean? And you can put that away…" smile.

("Damn it Robin, stop that! You're worse than Barney.." Tracy shook head.)

I pocketed my badge… "And you might put yours away as well." I suggested.

"Not quite yet…" she eyed me carefully.

"Look…" I went to the table by the armchair and showed her the folded newspaper on it, opening to reveal the blaring headline, proclaiming her death and the hunt for her killer, a picture of her prominent…Though not the bangedly-bang-bang one, naturally.

"Oh, my God." She gasped, putting down… (BANG! "Jesus, Robin!" Tracy, Lily, Marshall… "Ted? Are you ok?" Tracy, bending over him anxiously. "It's just shock…" Robin, hopefully. "You put that away, NOW!" Tracy hollered. "He's ok, not even a graze." Lily noted, helping Ted up. "What's up?" Barney, entering from bathroom, his 1944 tie readjusted for the fifth time. "Didn't you hear?!" Marshall asked him. "You mean Robin doing target practice?" Barney, calmly. "She does it in the house all the time. No big deal.")…[Said gun will no longer be featured in this production, gentle reader-Lily Aldrin-Erickson]

"How could they use this picture?"

"Yeah…Not really your best look. Look, how did you manage not to read or hear about this? It's been all over the papers."

"I don't get newspapers at my lakeside place."

"And no radio?"

"It's been broken since the last time I went. Heck, it's Long Island. But I preferred it that way anyway. I went there to think. When did this happen?"

"Friday night, by our best judgment. So you were up at the lake house the whole time…All this weekend?"

"Yes..." Careful look…And naturally, internal registration of the awesomeness before her… "But why are you here, Detective?"

("And I am registering that awesomeness, Barneybear. You are keeping that 40's suit and fedora." Robin hissed.)

"I was assigned your case…And quite a case."

"Thanks." Beam.

("Guys…?" "1944 noir innuendo, Trace…" Barney noted. "Ok, but just keep the graphic aids out of this.")

"Do you always spend the night in the home of a murder victim?" shrewdly noir-ish glance.

("And you are keepin' that 40's outfit." "Are you kidding, I charged this sucker." Beam.)

"Well…Only those I find appealing." Shrewdly noir-ish leer.

"Well, that's somehow charming yet gross." She noted.

"I needed to learn more about you to find your killer." I explained.

"And did you…Learn more?" she asked, smiling. "Wait? Are those my letters? And my diary?" She eyed the papers on the table by the armchair, frowning at me.

"Like I said…" I shrugged. "I needed to know you to help me find your killer. Sorry, strictly in the line of duty." I tried to make my eyes match my words but they wouldn't and I could see she wasn't buying…

"Nice. Should I say, 'thanks'?" glare.

"Some might. Usually not victims, though."

"So…You thought I was dead? For real? Everyone thought I was dead?"

"All of NYC, your home town in Canada, New York State, a number of national organizations you worked with. FDR's pressman issued a sympathetic statement on you. Eleanor's 'My Day' column mentioned you, too. Though hers mentioned you flirted too much with FDR when you visited the White House."

"Really?" she beamed. "And Eleanor is too sensitive."

"Probably…But her spiritual awesomeness gets briefly overshadowed by the physical of one like you. I actually think it's nice she gets a little jealous."

"Everyone thinks I'm dead? Oh, I have to call…Well…I guess my only living relative being my aunt, my aunt. And all my friends…" Robin, anxiously. "And I probably had better cancel my lunch next week at the White House alone with FDR if Eleanor's getting jealous."

"I would assume, as to lunch, it's cancelled. But no, you can't call anyone." I insisted.

"But people think I'm dead. My job, my rent-controlled apartment, and of course all those little people who worship me could be lost." She shook head.

"I knew it." I nodded. "Rent-controlled."

"Well, the landlord puts it down as rent-controlled. Actually I don't pay rent. And because this is 1944, let me quickly note, no fringe benefits to him are involved. He just feels his day is happier having me around."

"I can see that." I nodded, eyeing her.

"I imagine having the heroic detective Stinson around makes a few hearts beat faster." She smiled.

"A 'few'? Girl, please…"

"But why can't I call people and tell them the killer missed…Ohhh…" she nodded.

"Steel trap mind, kiddo." I returned nod. "By the way, among those family and friends I noticed you didn't refer to your beloved and presumably distraught fiancée, Shelby Carpenter."

"Shelby? Oh, I meant to include him. Stands to reason I would include my fiancée among those I'd want to tell I was still alive, right?" innocent look.

"Unless you don't…And maybe you think he's the killer."

("I'm a valid suspect…This is so great, thank you guys!" Marshall, eagerly.)

"Shelby? He wouldn't hurt a fly." Robin shook head.

"Not even if the fly was threatening to cut him off from his job and his source of ready cash? And knew he'd been paling around with one or more of their ad agencies' models?"

"Say what?" she blinked.

"It was common knowledge at your agency…Sterling, Cooper, Rivers, that Carpenter was squiring around several beauties, in particular…" I pulled out my detective's notepad. "A Miss Redfern, Diane Redfern…" I noted, looking up.

Uh-oh… Eyeing her dumbfounded look…

"You didn't know?"

"No…Well, maybe I had suspicions…Maybe they were substantiated but… I mean…" she indicated herself.

"Hmmn…She was your height…And rather like you, not too hard on the eyes…" I scanned my notes.

"If you want her number…?" Robin, calmly but slight frown…Or perhaps so I imagined/hoped.

"Uh, no…But frankly and not meaning to be too crude…I think your fiancée had it already. Say, you don't happen to have a photo of her about?"

"You expect that I keep photos of our models in my apartment?" she stared.

"Well…You are an ad exec and they are 'models'." I noted.

"Why are you saying models like 'models'?" she eyed me. "Wait…Hey…" she frowned. "Our models are fine girls…Maybe a few hobnob with our wealthy clients to keep them entertained at the occasional event. But it's above board so long as Sandy Rivers isn't involved and no cash is exchanged."

"I'm not the vice squad, Miss Scherbatsky. But even above board without Sandy Rivers can include the occasional office romance…"

She blinked…A slight quivering of the lips that sent a quiver to my heart, stunning me for an instant.

Me…Barnabas J. Stinson, Lieutenant of Detectives? Cut down in my prime by a dame? Stuffed and mounted, as my boss had predicted?

No, it couldn't be…And yet, somewhat healthier an obsession than the mooning over a dead and splattered girl…

I struggled to control myself. This was just another dame, a bit higher-society than most I dealt with, yet that Canadian innocence still shining through.

Getagrip, Stinson…I told myself and forced out the words I dreaded to say…

"So…You're still sweet on him? Carpenter?"

"I don't think it's any of your business, Officer." She said, coldly now.

"Sorry…Don't forget this is still an active case."

"Without a victim?" she eyed me.

"You didn't read the story?" I eyed her in turn.

"Oh, right, shot through the pump…"

"…And the head was blown off…With, unrecorded by the press for decency's sake, quite a bit of splatter."

"Really?" she looked back to the door and went over…Opening…

"Nice job of cleaning it up…" she noted, regarding the doorway.

"We're an efficient police force." I agreed.

"Wait…" she turned to me. "That's why you wanted the photo of Diane. You think…?"

"Someone's guts and brains were sprayed around here. Now do you have a photo?"

"We have a book…For special layouts. Just a minute." She went to the bedroom.

"I suppose you and your people rooted through my bedroom drawers as well?" she looked back to me from the bedroom door.

I pictured Sergeant McGullicuddy wearing said drawers while the other boys chuckled.

Hey, it's 1944 and in this business and such a case, one needs a little levity…

"We made a thorough inspection of the contents." I adopted a professional manner I did not feel.

"I'll bet." She grinned and went on in, snapping on a light. I couldn't help grinning myself.

Not bad, Scherbatsky…Just the right touch of annoyed outrage and humorous acceptance of the sit…You're all right.

And a lot easier on the eyes than in splattered condition…

Of course now I had to knuckle down and solve this one…Not only was she in danger from a deranged killer, but I had an impression to make.

"So you went away to think?" I called as she continued in her bedroom, checking her said drawers…

"That's right. Say, my lingerie has clearly been handled. I never fold it so well."

"That's Sergeant McGuillicuddy's work. Man has a talent there." I noted. "By the way he loved the green silk panties. Anyway, what was to think about? Marriage and Shelby Carpenter, first class louse?"

She emerged, tense look on face…Though my eyes were focused elsewhere, she having hung up the traveling jacket she'd worn.

("Barney?!" "Hey, it's noir-ish…" "He's got you there, Tracy." Ted notes. Uh…He regards her grim look. "But it's terrible of you, Barney. Think of the children." Ted tries desperately. "Oh, shut up, Ted." Tracy glares. "Pass but keep it 40's noir-ish, Stinson.")

"What business is it of yours?" she fumed. "You think hanging out in my apartment mourning my splattered corpse and getting off… ("ROBIN!") on my portrait…Great job, really, isn't it? Ted always was critical but I think it really captures something about my essence…And reading through my letters and diary…"

"You should call your friend Stef, by the way…" I noted. "Really bad break-up with her guy Tony overseas. Can you believe he actually sent her the 'Dear Joan' letter?"

"That jerk…I told her he was no good for her…" glare… "So you think all that…?"

"And interviewing all your closest friends and your only living relative, your aunt Anne, penetrating to the depths of their mostly kinda crappy souls…" I added.

"…Gives you some right to comment on my life choices?"

"No, but knowing you had doubts about Carpenter pushes him right to the front of the suspects line." I noted, calmly.

"That's impossible…I'd sooner believe Ted would shoot me." She frowned, then giggled… "You met Ted, right? Can you picture him handling a gun?"

"Shotgun…Really did it the messy way…And, no, not really but love does do weird things to people. Though Mr. Lydecker-Mosby has an airtight alibi."

"Oh…Broadcasting that night. He reminded me of it." She nodded. "I listened on the radio…In my car driving up. It was a good one."

"Back to Carpenter…What about him, given you claim not to know about Diane Redfern, made you hesitate about marrying him? You already knew he had no money. Was it about your aunt and him?"

"What?" she blinked.

Dear God, is she that clueless under the sophisticated poise?

"My aunt? And Shelby?"

"You did know he was getting money from her? And you did meet him through her, at her party."

"Sure, but…Eehew." She grimaced. "It can't be. My aunt just wanted to help out a fellow formerly rich person. There's no New Deal program for his kind, you know."

"Uh, there is…It's calling getting out and working. And didn't you supply him with one?"

"Yeah…But he's formerly wealthy, they're not used to scrimping, even on a well-paid executive's salary. I just figured Aunt Anne was helping him the way she helps so many causes. And partly for me, me being her favorite niece…" beam.

"You're her only niece…And to put it bluntly, she's been…'dating'…Your fiancée. In her bedroom…Probably naked or in very revealing lingerie…Likely fudge or vanilla sauce involved…"

"Ok!" Robin fumed, waving hands. "I'll ask Aunt Anne about that. Now, how's about leaving so I can get some sleep."

"Sorry, beautiful and risen from the Dead…I can't leave you alone here tonight." I told her, calmly. "You're getting 24/7 protection till we catch the killer, would-be in your case."

"You're staying here?" she eyed me…Clearly intrigued by the possibilities…

("And that's right to the edge, Stinson…" Tracy noted.)

"I'll sleep in the chair in the living room. I've been sleeping there the past three nights, so no problem."

"The recliner right in front of my fireplace?" Robin eyed me.

"Yeah."

"With my magnificent portrait hanging right out there…?"

"Yeah. It was more comfortable than that stiff sofa of yours."

"I'll bet…" she cooed, closing in a bit.

"Well, you should get to bed…Long day, especially what with hearing you've been…Murdered. In a truly gross and gruesome way…"

"Yeah…Thanks for staying. It is nice to have someone here, I have to say. I am kinda shaken up by all this." She leaned in, closer.

"Well, good night, Detective." She immediately turned and went to bedroom, shutting door.

I blinked, then looked over at the portrait again.

I could swear it was grinning at me.


	13. Chapter 13

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehearsal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part XIII…

Robin Scherbatsky alive…I stared at the portrait.

Damn…I'd just put a 500 buck deposit on the damned thing with the estate agents, Anne Treadswell having had to reluctantly ease her attempted grip.

Dames…They always get it out of you someway. Even from beyond the grave and back…

Not that I wasn't pleased to find Robin alive, somehow…Despite other misgivings her sudden resurrection had awakened. It was just...500 1944 smackers, geesh.

I mean with her alive I coulda probably got a copy done for fifty.

"Detective!"

I came out of my reverie and found her at her bedroom door, holding a dress. A rather cheap little number not really in her style…

At least not since Lydecker-Mosby'd societied the Canadian down in her a bit.

"This isn't mine. I recognize it, though." She noted. "It's Diane Redfern's, just about my size….Though really I'd say I'm…"

"It would be…" I nodded.

Trying to look as if I'd known all along and the pieces had fallen neatly into place.

"And it's exactly your size. Though McGullicuddy thought it not quite your style when he catalogued your wardrobe. He's won five bucks off Dalmeiter, I guess. But you're sure it's hers?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Frown. "I'd never be caught dead…" slight clutch at throat, she paused. "Uh…And here's her photo, in our most recent book…" she handed the book to me, rather eagerly. Especially for someone unaware she'd been thought dead while the girl actually murdered just happened to have been notorious for hobnobbing (and things not suitable for 1944 censors) with her own dear fiancée.

"I'll need to get this and that dress sent over to headquarters and have them checking on Miss Redfern. While I'm gone…Do not leave this apartment and call no one." I ordered.

"What? Am I a prisoner in my own home?" she eyed me.

"Let me ask you. You did know about Carpenter and Redfern…" I returned stare coolly. "Did you ask her over, to hash things out?"

"And blow her head off and then sneak off to my cottage for the weekend as an alibi?" she glared. "No, I didn't. I'd no idea she'd be coming here."

"Leading to my next question…Did you know Carpenter was bringing her Friday night?"

"No, I did not…" she said, coldly. "And you don't know that either, you're just assuming."

"Someone persuaded her to come over. If you didn't, odds have to be it was him."

"You're saying Shelby…?" she stared, then shook head, chuckling. "That's ridiculous…Shelby couldn't hurt a fly."

"But I think we both know he could commit murder to keep his happy little life as a man kept by the various women in his life, safe." I eyed her. "That's why you're protecting him. Why you're not even angry…"

"You know nothing about me, Detective Stinson. Just a portrait you saw hanging in my living room and photos of me shot to bloody bits. Plus whatever different people you've spoken to told you about me…And what you got from my diaries and letters and going through my clothes and things…My God…" she blinked.

He probably knows me better now than I know myself…

"You…You can't suspect me?" she eyed me.

"I suspect no one and every one." I frowned. "Besides if you're not the killer, you're in danger. So do like I tell you and sit tight. Go to bed, I'm sure you need the sleep. I'll be back soon as I can. Lock this door." I noted, moving to the door, bearing the book of photos and the dress folded over my arm. "Telephone no one, I mean that. And don't let anyone in who isn't me or doesn't carry a police badge."

"Are you always so commanding…And Awesome?" she glared but with a glint in her eyes.

("He always is…" Robin, sighing. Lily frowning to Tracy…Geesh.)

"Always." I nodded. "Sit tight." I went out, shutting door. Pausing to hear her lock it.

…

Heading down I went left to the basement, not right, to the front door…I went down the stairs where an officer sat listening over a wiretap. He looked up at me.

"McGullicuddy off duty?"

"Yes, uh sir…I just took over for the night. Anything going on upstairs, I heard some talking…?"

"I've an important eyewitness staying on in the apartment. She's not to leave without my permission."

"No, sir. Uh, high five called for?" he eyed me and the dress on arm, raising hand. Slight appreciative gleam for the continuing of my streak month…

"I mean a real eyewitness, Officer." I frowned. "And she really is not to go anywhere. Or place any calls. If she should, trace and record them and call me at once."

Oooh…Meaning no bang for the day? Say it isn't so and the streak of '42-'44 isn't broke, the sergeant's sad eyes told me.

It's what got us through the worst days of the war…

"And…This morning, before I came…" I noted. "You haven't lost yet."

Phew… "Thanks, Lieutenant."

…

The City Morgue…

"Stinson…" the tall medical examiner bearing a striking resemblance to Police Commissioner Erickson, nodded with smirk. "Afraid today's crop ain't worth the trouble…"

(Eehew…Lily, Tracy…Ted…And Marshall, after thinking about it…)

"Not here to light a candle to beauty lost this evening, Quince…" Stinson, offering model book and dress. "I need to have another peek at the Scherbatsky case."

"Ooooh…Messy one. Though a good session in the meat locker can make a world of difference. Lets have a gander…"

"Actually, I was speaking figuratively and intending you to do all gandering. Family's not claimed her yet?"

"Eh, the dad in Canada's been arrested as a Nazi sympathizer…Ravin' about how he was workin' to create the Master Race in his own family. The mom's comin' by train…"

("Bit harsh on your dad…" Ted hissed to Robin. "Great-granddad…And he actually was a Nazi-loving eugenicist." Robin noted.)

"…meanin' she's all yours for now."

"Off-putting even to me, Quince. The size and age on this girl are close to Scherbatsky. Just see if there's a chance the dental or other records match hers."

"You might be on to something, Detective…" Quince leered at the book's photograph, then Stinson. "The boobs are a good match, I see your training with me is complete."

("Double eehew…" Lily…then Marshall, catching on.)

"And I see one of these days, I'll be arresting not consulting you, Quince."

"Please…New York needs me in this morgue. You want me in this morgue!" Quince sneered.

"I prefer it to you're being out on the street, for sure. Just check this out and get back to me."

"Sure…But wait…" Quince eyed him. "If the spatter girl in my locker isn't Scherbatsky, then…New York's most beloved career girl, warming all our hearts in this wartime world is still alive?" hopeful beam.

"Lets just check this out…"

"Sure…But you know she never responded to my letters inviting her to visit me here." Dark look. "Always with those hunks or that weird prissy Lydecker guy. Wasting herself on them. Say…? You wouldn't happen to know…? Assumin' she is alive…"

"No idea." Stinson shrugged. "Just checking a lead."

Mental note…Time to send my file on Quince to Police Commissioner Erickson suggesting Quince has outlived his usefulness to the department and it's time to reopen several gruesome cases involving "little people".

…

After a brief side trip, I returned to the Scherbatsky apartment building, sure of what Quince would soon confirm. It was Diane Redfern who'd been splattered that Friday night, her gore reeking all over the doorway of Robin Scherbatsky's apartment. I went to check with the officer manning the phone tap.

Worse, she'd been having an illicit affair with Robin's fiancée. I mean, no big deal on Shelby's side but God, on hers, what a slut.

("1944 double standard, kids." Ted explained. "Yeah, Dad. We know.")

Worst of all…Either Robin was lying to me about knowing Diane was there that evening or she was covering for Carpenter. Either a murderess or still a fiancée…

Considering I could probably find her a good sleazy defense attorney who'd get her off on a 1944 "crime of passion" defense with say, 10 years, one could say the fiancée being the worser of two evils…Though…Ten years in the slammer? Might well be a deal breaker lookswise.

"Say, Lieutenant…? Guess what…" eager smile as I entered the basement… "Say, those for me?" he eyed the sack of groceries under my arm.

"Yeah?" I sighed, guessing what was coming. "And no…"

"Oh." Slight sigh. "Well, the dame in the apartment. She's Robin Scherbatsky…Quince just confirmed the meatbag in his locker is some Black Dalilah nobody named Redfern. Did you know?"

"Just keep it under your hat, for now." I was tempted to relax…

"Sure, sure…And she put in a call to some guy named Carpenter…Shelby Carpenter. Lieutenant? You ok?"


	14. Chapter 14

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehearsal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part XIV…

The recording of the wiretap…It's 1944, what's this nonsense about did we have a warrant?...Was just about what I'd've expected as a cynical detective. And just about broke my heart.

\- Hello? - This is Robin. I've-

Don't say anything on the phone. Meet me right away.

I'll wait for you in my car in front of Bullitt's.

"Dames…Always pulling a switch on you." I muttered. "Alright, Columbo…Call in McGullicuddy to take the phone here and we'll get after them. You'll follow the girl, I'll tail Carpenter."

"Yes, sir. Uh, sir…But can I ask her just one question…One question, sir."

"You get to ask the questions when I'm promoted to a desk and you're in charge of investigations in the field, Columbo. For now, listen and learn."

"Right, sir." Very intelligent man, my superior, Columbo reflected.

…

After the pair met at Bullitt's Pharmacy, a pharmacy and snack shop, and talked for perhaps twenty minutes, they immediately separated as I expected after watching them through the window from a distance, well hidden in a dark storefront. Carpenter looking pretty much the weakling ex-millionaire trying to play concerned fiancée while leaving no question with his anxious pleading looks that he was whimpering for help. Robin…Well…I wanted to believe I was seeing a compassionate woman trying to save a frightened child of a man in real trouble for the first time in his pampered existence. But there was no denying there was concern and affection in her looks. Whatever she felt for Carpenter and I won't deny I'd hoped it was largely pity, it was real and sincere. After they'd talked, Robin making back for her place, trying to take up as if she'd never left…Carpenter, in what was no doubt Anne Treadswell's rather elegant convertible, heading out of town.

To an address I knew all too well and had expected him to make for…

Robin Scherbatsky's cottage…The one she'd supposedly gone to spend the weekend thinking over their forthcoming marriage.

…

"Taking it down or putting it away, permanently, Carpenter?" I spoke up in the darkness of the cottage, Carpenter standing on tiptoe in the dark lifting a shotgun from its rack above the fireplace mantelpiece…

"You shouldn't leave friends' door unlocked…" I noted, as he stared at me in clear panic.

"May I?" I reached for the shotgun. "You know we've been looking for one just like this." I peered into the barrel and unlocked it, cocking it open. "It's been fired…Recently…"

He stared, struggling for calm…

"Yes…I killed some rabbits with it."

I nodded… (Eehew…Lily, shaking head. "No, baby…Never…Well just those times with my dad…" Marshall noted. "Blast the little Bugs, Marshall! Blast his damned head off!" Marvin Erickson, in Minnesotan flashback, cried.)

"When?"

"I don't remember…A while back."

"You know about guns, don't you? Yes, goes with the Texas, I guess." 

"Yes." Faint smile.

"So how come you didn't clean it afterward?"

"I don't know…Forgot I suppose. Perhaps Robin and I were busy that weekend…Yes."

He blanched a bit at my look, then realized the correct response was annoyance…

"That's hardly your business anyway."

"You haven't…Borrowed it lately? You didn't just return it tonight?"

"You obviously followed me here after I met Robin. You saw me go in. You ought to know, Lieutenant."

"Uh-huh." I folded gun and set it down. Eyeing him carefully as he tried to affect nonchalance…

"You realize the spot you're in, Carpenter? You took that poor girl to Robin's place in town. You knew all along it was she who was murdered. You claimed not to have a key to this place. Didn't you realize Robin would come back any day now and spill the whole thing? Or, was the plan to murder Robin, too and cover up your first crime?"

Say yes, say yes…I thought.

Ok, hardly likely he'd confess to two murders but…

"You're being fantastic, Lieutenant. And even if I were guilty, who'd confess to two murders?" Carpenter, genuinely annoyed now.

"What about the key to Robin's townhouse? Where is it."

"I haven't got it…"

"You gave it back to her? Tonight?"

"I never had one…" I gave him a stern and unbelieving look…

"You, the fiancée?"

"It's 1944, Lieutenant." Carpenter, rather shocked. "Nice girls don't give even their fiancées keys. They just leave the door unlocked when home and in the mood. Otherwise, nothing doing…" sigh. "Robin kept a duplicate key at the office…I borrowed it sometimes, when I knew she'd…"

"…be away. You knew she was going away that weekend."

"It wasn't like that…Diane thought she was in love with me. I had to have it out with her, for Robin's sake. I invited her to dine, then…Well…She was too upset to go to public places. We couldn't go to her room or my hotel…"

"So you took her to Robin's…"

"Yes. We talked for about three hours. I tried to make her see that I love Robin…Then the doorbell rang…"

"Meaning it wasn't Robin Scherbatsky…" I reflected, half to myself.

"No, why should it have been…? Diane was frightened but I wasn't. Nothing like that surprised me."

"Oh?"

"Robin was loved by many people. Her friends came to her day and night with their problems. I just assumed someone had done so, not knowing she was away."

"And you let Diane answer the door?"

"How would it have looked if I did? 1944, Lieutentant."

"Why answer it at all? Were you expecting someone?"

"I told you, I wasn't…But they must have seen the lights on…"

"1944? What about Diane's reputation?"

"I told her to say Robin had let her take the apartment while she was away. Robin often did that."

"And then…?"

Carpenter, visibly shaken… "The doorbell rang again. I heard Diane's mules…" ("Kids, mules were a kind of slipper in…" "We got that, Dad.") "…Well, Robin's…running across the floor.I heard an explosion…I ran out. No one was there, the door was closed again, but…Poor Diane in a vague heap in the dark…Oh, it was horrible…" he shook head, trembling.

("He's picturin' me as the corpus delecti…" Lily beamed happily to Ted as she filmed. "Picture me with my brains splattered, honey! That's it!")

"Did you go out to see who it was?"

"Well, no…I was too confused, too dazed…I went to Diane, called her name, felt her heart…I almost called the police. It was my first instinct."

"Why didn't you?"

"I was in a panic…For Robin as well as me, you see. The only thing I could think was that I must try to keep Robin's name out of it. I know that was foolish and hopeless but I could only think of the safety of one dearer to me than myself. Surely you can understand…"

"Why? Did you think Robin had done it?"

"I…I don't remember what I thought….I was in a panic…"

"Do you think so, now…?" I stared.

"No…Of course not." Stare. "You must understand, Lieutenant. I thought only of protecting the one I love…"

"I understand you turned yellow…And probably, green…Left that poor girl and tried to cover up what you could. But on Saturday when our men went to your hotel, you seemed sincerely shocked."

"I was. I hadn't expected that mistake. Besides…There was always the chance…"

"Then you should have expected to hear of two bodies…And if there was the chance, and you thought only of protecting the one you…Love? Why didn't you try to warn Robin, tell her what had happened?"

"I didn't know that she'd come here. She'd not said where exactly she was going…"

"And you, the fiancée? Didn't think that strange?"

"Robin did as she wished. She didn't consult with me on anything she did." Carpenter, firmly.

"But you had your alibi ready…No matter who was dead. And you must have known the minute Robin got back it wouldn't stick." I pressed hard.

"Exactly…I was incapable of thinking that far ahead… confused for Robin, heart-broken about Diane. All I could think of was I must keep Robin's name out of it. I haven't slept a full two hours since this happened."

"All right, lets get back to the present. What did you and Robin talk about tonight?"

"I told her the whole story, as I've just told you."

"She phoned you after she promised me she wouldn't call anybody. What did she want?"

"Why it's perfectly natural she'd want to call me after what's happened."

"Why don't you tell the truth, Carpenter? She…She sent you here to get rid of the gun, didn't she?"

"What? No. She has no idea I came here."

I recocked the gun, testing the trigger… "It works fine, doesn't it?"

"Why shouldn't it?"

"I'd hoped it wouldn't." I sighed involuntarily. Carpenter regarding me but not comprehending. "Lets go."

"Am I…Under arrest?" anxiously.

"No, but you're not to leave town. It'll be foolish of you to try."

…

I entered the apartment around eight to find the Scherbatsky dame was no slouch, abed till ten, but already up and about. In fact a little too up and about for my taste, given her decision to ignore my instructions and what was likely her lie about Carpenter.

But the alternative to her believing him capable of murder and choosing to protect him was too tough even for me to voice, even to myself.

God, Robin? You like that wuss of a guy? Enough to cover for him? Let alone enough to kill for him? See? Too tough, even for me.

Of course, she'd clearly also liked Theodore Lydecker-Mosby…Her tastes indeed ran wussy.

("So which one of us gets the right to first get back at him?" Ted eyed Marshall. "Oh, it's gotta be you, Ted. I need time to plan out my revenge." Marshall nodded, cool smile at Barney. "Dude? Lets remember. Robin loves him and he has kids." Ted, worriedly. "Oh, it won't be fatal…That would spoil it." Marshall, strange exhilaration in eyes.)

"So, Detective?" she eyed the sack of groceries I was carrying. "You planning to set up housekeeping in my apartment?"

"Just as long as I have to, to solve this case, Miss." I noted. "But let me set this down in the kitchen. I'm famished myself and I noticed you hadn't gone shopping."

She let me into the kitchen with amused air, holding door. I set down the bag and pulled out oranges, eggs, coffee, bread loaf.

"If you happen to have such a thing as a coffee pot, I'll start wrestling up some grub…" I noted.

"Right here. But why don't you let me do that and just slice the bread and set the table." She grinned.

"Really? You cook too?" I smiled back, unable to resist.

"I'd might ask with more 1944 justification the same of you…"

"In the Stinson house, you didn't cook or clean you didn't eat." I noted. "Single moms don't have time for sexism. You?"

"Fair enough…My mom listened sympathetically to my dreams of a career, then taught me another recipe. As for my dad, while he had custody of me he'd convinced himself I was a boy…And planned said career to succeed him in his business and Nazi side hobbies. Which explains how my mom won sole custody."

A sound of the rear door opening, directly into the kitchen, startled us both. But not nearly so much as the harsh scream of the entering Cora, Robin's excessively faithful maid.

"Arrggh!" she screamed, collapsing at the sight of Robin alive and apparently involved with that awful detective…

So much for today's chance to enjoy a lesbian fantasy session while…yeah, right…Straightening up the place.

"Cora!" Robin hurried over to help the girl stand. "It's alright, there was a mistake…I'm not a ghost."

"But…But…The newspapers said…He said…" Cora pointed at me.

"It was someone else…It'll be out soon." I told her.

"Try to calm down, Cora." Robin, soothing her.

"You're…Alive…Oh…" Cora stared at her.

"Very much so…Now, now…" as Cora began sobbing…Patting her.

"You think you could manage to get us all a little breakfast? The detective and I have some things to discuss…" Robin, looking into her face.

"Yes, ma'am…" Cora nodded. "It'll be just a minute…"

"Come on, Detective…"Robin urged me. We went back into the living room.

"She needs something to focus on. Plus I did damn well pay her for the month." Robin noted as we sat down, she on sofa, I on chair.

"I'm sure she's glad to no longer be a suspect in killing you." I noted. She staring at me…

"You accused Cora? How could you?"

"Everyone's a suspect in a case like this. But I didn't really think she was a likely one. Though she is beyond obsessed with you."

"You say it like it's a bad thing…" Robin, annoyed.

"I thought Canadians were supposed to be self-depreciating…" I returned.

"Not if they want to survive the New York rat race." She parried. "Besides, why would it be a bad thing…?"

Hmmn…

"Still somebody should have warned her…" Robin sighed.

"By the way, I've asked Theodore Lydecker-Mosby to come here this morning."

"Did you tell him?" Robin, anxiously.

"No."

"What? Why not, this is brutal."

"I'm not doing it (entirely) for fun." Well, ok in Lydecker-Mosby's case? Eighty percent for fun, given that still air-tight alibi.

"Why did you break your promise and go out and meet Carpenter last night?" I hit her with it between the eyes and she took it like a trooper…A Canadian Mounted Trooper.

"You forced me to give you my word. I never have been and never will be bound by anything I don't do of my own free will." Calm stare.

The hell you say…I thought, blinking.

This is 1944, not 1994.

Dear God, she's fifty years ahead of her time awesome…

(Awwwwwwww…Barney. Robin, Lily, Tracy.)

"You knew that Redfern was in love with Carpenter. You admitted that last night."

She eyed me coolly…Appraising… "I also told you I knew he wasn't in love with her."

…

Cora brought out breakfast and coffee a few moments later and we settled in, Scherbatsky noting that I'd made myself so at home, I ought to pay rent. I noting that since she didn't…

What can I say? Two awesome types at the banter…We coulda gone on like this all day. The real Scherbatsky was turning out to make my fantasies seem pale by comparison…

(Awww….Robin…)

But all the while her call to Carpenter gnawing at me…

The doorbell buzzed…

I pulled my gun…Putting up a hand for caution. Robin staring at me, startled.

And clearly somewhat turned on…

The ladies go for the pulled guns…Natch.

And she was something of a gun enthusiast from what I'd seen in her cottage and the townhouse magazine racks…

"Hello, darling…" Shelby Carpenter strolling in as if he owned the place or was the fiancée of the owner…

"Cora…" pleasantly to the frowning maid who'd now entered from the kitchen having hearing the buzzer.

"Could I have a cup of coffee and some toast, please? Hello, Lieutenant." He smiled at me with Cheshire Cat smirk.

I still had my gun out…Robin noting…Hurried over to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

I reluctantly put the pistol back in my holster.

"Thank you, Cora." Carpenter took the cup, taking seat next to Robin.

"Oh. It's on again." I eyed the two.

"Why should I need a police permit to kiss my fiancée good morning, Lieutenant?" Slight sneer in the remark…

I eyed them both, focusing on Robin who seemed a bit subdued though determined to play her part…

"So he got you to change your mind?"

Him? He got you to? I eyed Miss "never be bound" Scherbatsky who did her best to remain non-committal in return stare.

"Speaking of changing one's mind, Detective Stinson…" Carpenter, clearly relishing his new-found archness as restored fiancée. "I have just come from my lawyer…The famed barrister to the power and famous, Marshall Randolph Erickson…Cousin of your police commissioner, I do believe?"

"Yeah? He tell you how much you'll get off for good behavior?"

"No, but he told me that anything I may have said last night was said 'under duress' and can't be used against me. Lawyered!" he offered high-five.

Guys? He eyed Robin, me…Neither showing the slightest interest.

"Fine." He lowered arm. "Besides, none of it was true. I was 'under duress'."

"Smart lawyer you got. Did he bring Diane Redfern up here?"

Robin looking a bit pained…Carpenter starting to fume.

"Ah, Stinson." A voice of rather annoying tone, from the open door. "I thought I might again suggest we come to a mutually beneficial arrangement regards the portrait and my loaned valu…"

"Ted." Robin, gently as he caught of her, she having been for a moment hidden by Carpenter on her seat on the sofa…

"Ro…bin…" he shook.

("So Ted…" Marshall nodded at the fallen Lydecker-Mosby. "Marshall? We agreed." Lily hissed. "No 'So Ted' regards Robin, etc, etc, with Tracy around.")

"Ted!" Robin had raced to his side as he shook.

Uh…His eyes rolled up and he reeled, collapsing in a heap…

"Ted!" Robin cried, racing to him…

Oh, I suppose this means…Stinson thought, somewhat miffed.

"Help me with him, Detective…!" she called to him, hurriedly rifling through his pockets…

(Hee… "That tickles…" Ted chuckled. "Ok. We got all we need of the touching to show touching concern, Scherbatsky." Tracy, firmly.)

"Right…Front…Pocket…" Ted gasped. "Right…Front…Poc…ket…"

"Jesus…" Robin stared at the pill container she'd just pulled out…Nitroglycerin tablets.

("You know if these were real, it would be like totally cool to go hit them with a hammer and see if they blow up?" Marshall noted. "I really feel confident knowing you're a New York Superior Court Justice, Marshall." Ted sighed.)

"He really does have a heart condition." Robin stared. "I always figured he was just trying to opt out of doing me as often as he could." She looked up to Stinson. "You know, covering the…Ummn…You know…" brushing hair back nervously.

("Hey…" Ted, echoed by Tracy. "Thanks, wife-bro." Ted slapped her hand backhandedly. "Family honor, Mosby." She noted, accepting and returning slap.)

"That's better." Ted, sitting up, slight frown at Robin and Stinson looking down at him.

Geesh…Everyone perpetuating the stereotypes? Can't a man be interested in art, theater, music, books, fine dining, napkin folding, and antique hunting to the point of wild obsession without it being assumed he must be Cole Porter's permanent live-in? And I have done you, girl…Several times…He frowned at Robin.

Indeed…My creation, my jewel…I made you and can break you to pieces. If I must…Though, one should never ignore the hand of Divine Providence in providing second chances. So long as you also appreciate that benevolence…

"Ted…" She'd knelt by him. "Are you all right?"

"Yes…" he got up, she helping him. "It's really you, my dear?"

"Yes, it's me…"

"And me, Ted…" Shelby, now by his side. Looking sincerely anxious…

Lydecker-Mosby glaring up at him…

I don't care if you're bizarrely sincere or just jerking me around, Carpenter…

…


	15. Chapter 15

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehearsal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part XV…

Apartment of Robin Scherbatsky…

A pretty picture, if you like…The restored to life murder victim rather pleased to find herself not splattered about the place…The attentive fiancée at her side, dutifully criticizing my methods and general harassment…The third wheel ex-?, if you could call him that (Hey, I banged her…Multiple times, Lieutenant), making his usual cynical comments, those even rather more cynical and bitter than usual, likely given the attentive fiancée who seemed immune to Lydecker-Mosby's usual tearing down strategies.

Indeed that was odd…He'd succeeded with so many others, most rather more manly and potentially appealing than Texan Richie ex-Rich with a drawl here. What did Carpenter have that was holding Scherbatsky to him? Outside a certain cloying but charmingly innocent indifference to his selfishness…

Oh, well…Maybe that was it. Plus he wasn't a bad looking fellow in a decent suit.

Though of course a darker reason for their sudden return to oneness had crossed my mind…

Two darker reasons in fact, neither very appealing…

Both involving one or the other as the murderer…

But was she protecting him? Or receiving protection?

Normally, I might've taken each one down to the station and tried the good ole rubber hose…

Oh, who am I kidding…I couldn't have messed up either of those lovely faces. Though a bag of oranges leaving no serious outward signs of abuse but doing permanent damage could be an option.

No, here I had to try a different route…One of them would crack with a little pressure…And my guess was it would be Carpenter.

Not a difficult guess…

("Hey." Lily frowned. "Just remember it's only the kindness of the Slap Commissioner that's been preventing some circa 1944 serious slapticuffs here." "Barney's just fleshin the character…You wanna mess with the Scherbatsky of Scherbatsky-Stinson, Aldrin? Bring it on!" Robin fumed.)

…

For his part, playing it to the hilt and recovered from the abject fear that had gripped him yesterday when I cornered him at the lake cottage, with shotgun, Carpenter now seemed determined to show off for Robin by confronting me as she returned from the bedroom where we'd placed the stricken Lydecker-Mosby.

"How's Ted?" he rose as she entered.

"Well, it was a terrible shock, poor darling." She sighed, slight glare at me. "But he'll be all right."

"Don't tell me you're in love with him too." I eyed her.

"See here, Stinson. Don't speak to Miss Scherbatsky that way." Carpenter fumed.

"Shut up. So, why are you covering up for a guy like this?" I confronted her.

"That's enough, Detective. Your methods are brutal and offensive. Don't answer him, Robin."

I stared at him with my best, he trying to maintain his fume… "So, what story did Carpenter here tell you last night?"

She stared at me, then Carpenter…

"Don't answer him. From now on, you talk to our lawyer." Shelby insisted.

"Our lawyer? So now you're covering up for each other?" I smiled coldly.

"Look at him, Robin…He's beginning to crack up." Carpenter, affecting cool disdain. "He'll do anything to make an arrest so he can be a big shot in the papers."

"I've enough to arrest you, right now." I noted calmly. Carpenter, reddening…

"Shelby…" Robin cautioned.

Sound of clapping from the hallway to the guest bedroom…

"Quick, Stinson, the handcuffs…" Lydecker-Mosby stepped into the room, Robin regarding him with concern, then increasing annoyance.

"You have our man…Trundle him off to the hoosegow." Grin.

"Waldo…You keep out of this." Carpenter, angrily.

"You'll look nice in bracelets…" Lydecker-Mosby chuckled.

"Why don't you get down on all fours again, Waldo? It suited you. And it's the only time you ever kept your mouth shut." Sneer.

"Forgive my touch of heart disease, dear…" Ted, to Robin who shook head at him…

Ted…Enough…

"An old family trait…"

"Yes, the fainting spell…" Carpenter sneered. "Tell me do all the Lydecker-Mosby women carry it?"

"Well, Stinson…For me, a brush with mortality…For Carpenter, the semblance of a spine…What does Robin's resurrection do for you?" Lydecker-Mosby eyed me.

"Too bad Diane Redfern can't be resurrected." I noted coolly.

"Yes…A pity. Well, I seem to have interrupted a 'pinch'. Do your duty, Officer Stinson."

Carpenter and Robin exchanging anxious looks…

I catching same, my heart dropping about ten feet through the floor. Still, one must carry on awesomely…And the irritating eagerness of Lydecker-Mosby was at least a bit bracing…

"Actually, Lydecker-Mosby…You've made me change my mind." I said, calmly…Awesomely.

"For the moment…" I eyed Carpenter, then Robin.

"Well, in that case, we'll have time for a little get-together here. Better order some liquor and food, Robin." Ted smiled.

"What? What for?" she stared.

"For the celebration of your resurrection…I've called everyone up at this hour… Anne…Bullitt…Corey…My boy JJ…Though I probably shouldn't have called Diane Redfren's number…Got her mom…Awkward, much, forgot. But my man is calling round to the late risers now and everyone else is…"

"Ted, that's insane…Why did you do that?" Robin frowned.

Well…Carpenter mused…A little party, with some of those mini-franks, might be…

"A sense of the fitness of things, dear. And to help our gallant detective here…With everyone here, perhaps he can weave all loose ends into a noose, eh, Stinson?" sardonic smile.

"Sorry you went to all that trouble. I've already called them." I noted, calmly. The others staring at me…

…

About three hours later…Robin's apartment's living room, now crowded with guests…

Cora in uniform, making the rounds of the living room bearing tray…

Carpenter at bar, mixing and dispensing drinks to guests stopping by… Anne Treadswell, looking anxiously about, at his side…

"You're working yourself to death, darling." She insisted. "I haven't had a moment with you all afternoon."

"Well, it's a very thirsty crowd." He noted casually.

"Well, after all it isn't your homecoming…" she fumed.

"Aren't you being a bit nasty, Anne?" he sighed.

"I feel nasty when I don't see you…Shelby…" she breathed, hand on his.

"Well, you look very sweet. That's a completely wonderful hat, dear."

("Lily? You bought that too?" Marshall frowned.)

"Now, if you'll forgive me…Robin wants a cocktail."

"Well…So I do." Anne frowned.

"Well…Here you go, sweet." Handing her cocktail then turning, she grabbing at his arm.

"Shelby, why don't you come to your senses?" she hissed. "You know it's all over between you and Robin…Or it soon will be." Pleading tone.

"But you haven't lost me. Oh, lets get married now."

"Anne. Dear…" He patted her hand. "You don't seem to realize the situation."

"Of course I do, better than you. That's why you need me. We'll get you the best lawyer money can buy. And then…When it's over…We'll go away. Anywhere you like. And forget about all this."

("If it were me…I'd be on a luxury liner to Scotland the next day." Marshall noted. "I know you would, honey." Lily beamed.)

"Thanks, Anne…But Robin needs me. Sorry." He left her frowning and went over to where Stinson stood by Robin who was speaking to various members of a circle clustered about her. Lydecker-Mosby contentedly observing from sofa as he sipped at drink.

"This is clearly proof of the miraculous power of God and right-thinking Americanism…" JJ Hunsecker, in his trademade college sweater, standing among the circle, insisted.

"Or of poor eyesight and lighting." Stinson noted, dryly. "Though I doubt Diane Redfern's people would agree in either case."

"Yes, I suppose so. Then it's your job to pursue the dirty killer and bring him to justice. Why are you hanging round here, then, Detective?" Hunsecker eyed him.

"Him…Or her…" Stinson, calmly…Glance to Robin. "And I'm doing my job right now, thanks."

"The detective has his person in his sights, my boy." Ted noted with sarcastic smile. "We can trust him to bring this matter to a proper close at the gallows or electric chair. Besides, I agree with him. The killer was as likely seeking Robin as poor Miss Redfern. His post is that of gallant knight, by her side guarding her."

"I'm afraid I wouldn't say that." Stinson, quiet look at an annoyed Robin. "Though I do intend to prevent our killer from doing it again."

"Are we to assume then, detective…" Addison De Witt, seated in armchair, brandy-and-soda in hand… "That you believe the killer is among us?"

Nervous looks about crowd near enough to hear…

"I do." Stinson nodded. "But that's my opinion."

"Here you are, darling…" Carpenter handed Robin her drink, she smiling at him…From his seat Lydecker-Mosby scowling a bit for just an instant.

"If you don't mind, I'd like a word with my fiancée in private, Lieutenant." Shelby turned to Stinson, excessively polite tone.

"I don't mind. Talk to her as much as you like." Shrug.

Robin following Carpenter at his glance…Stinson, various guests, Lydecker-Mosby all watching them step over to the hallway to her bedroom.

"What do you think, Eve?" Addison De Witt smiled to his lovely companion, the famed up-and-coming actress Eve Harrington, stunning in her gown but looking a bit weary and harassed.

"What? You're gonna tell me what to think anyway…" she fumed, hissing back.

"Yes…" suavely icy tone. "But I'm curious to know if you had any opinion before I formed it for you."

"Sure. Robin Scherbatsky's a bitch as bad as me in her own way but lucky enough to have found a weaker sugar-daddy in Lydecker-Mosby. I only wish I'd met him first. That satisfy you?" bitter tone.

"It's an opinion but I meant about the murderer."

"How should I know? I never get to even read the papers without you telling me what's suitable to read."

("Uh, not really guys." Lily hissed to Marvin and Barney Jr. who rolled eyes.

More like Aunt Lily tells Uncle Marshall what to think…

"So Lily finally got to do Eve…Nice job doing both characters here." Robin noted to Marshall who sighed.

"Considering what that gown cost, you betcha she was gonna get to use it." He frowned.)

"Well, I thought as a woman your take might…"

"Addison?" Eve stared at him. "You actually wanted my opinion? Oh, sweetheart…" she beamed sweetly. "It was probably the bitch." She noted, sneering. "I sure woulda croaked any rivals and tried to make myself look as innocent as I did with Margo Channing."

…

"I see Detective Stinson is taking a new tack…" Carpenter noted to Robin who eyed him.

"What do you mean?"

"Trying to make you like him to make you talk." Sententiously.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry…But…"

"Shelby? Why the hell did you go to my cottage last night?" she frowned at him. He stared back…Urging her to step away from prying eyes.

"Don't you know? I was afraid you wouldn't think of hiding that shotgun."

"What shotgun?" she stared.

"The one I gave you, dear. It was hanging over the mantle in your cottage. Darling, you don't have to lie to me, I'll stand by you." Smile, fond pat. She stared at him…

What? Doing the Texas thing here…Standin' by my gal…He eyed her as she turned.

"I have to use the bathroom…" she hurried off, Stinson looking over at her from where he was being as monosyllabic as possible under a barrage of questions by the guests, encouraged by both Lydecker-Mosby and DeWitt.

…

"Hello, Anne." Robin managed a smile at Anne Treadswell as they stood in her large guest bathroom, Anne engaged in fixing lipstick smeared during her desperate confrontation with Shelby.

"Dear…Sorry I've not had more time to welcome you back to the land of the living…" Anne noted casually, adjusting hat in mirror. "What's the matter, dear?" she eyed her niece's stricken face.

"Oh, I guess I'm just nervous…"

"You should be…" calm nod. "So am I."

"Detective Stinson…Suspects Shelby." Pause. "He seems to suspect me too. And so do some of my friends."

"You?" Anne regarded her. "Don't be absurd. You could never do a thing like that."

"And Shelby?"

"Oh…I don't think he did it." Anne powdered her nose. ("See kids, although at the time, in movies, powdering one's nose was a euphemism for…" "We know, Dad…Uncle Ted.") "But he's capable of it."

Robin stared at her.

"Are you as interested in Detective Stinson as he seems to be in you?" Anne, casually ignoring Robin's stunned stare.

"Anne, I only met him last night…Though he is rather awesome." Robin noted.

"More than long enough sometimes…Lord, it always used to be for Ted." Frown.

"You loved him…Once."

"Sadly…'Once'…Was once too many. But, yes…I suppose, to be honest, I did." Anne eyed Robin. "We were young and I sensed we were very much alike…Both worthlessly arrogant for no reason but the veneer of education and our social standing that rested on our money, and yet both…Secretly…Burdened by an exquisite sense of the Romantic. Fortunately we realized our mistake quickly, though in the case of that awful son of mine, too late."

"Aunt…" Robin, shocked.

"It's only the truth, dear. John James Hunsecker is a combination of the worst in us both." Anne patted her cheeks from an open compact. "But Stinson is better for you than Shelby. Anybody is. Shelby's better for me." Calm stare at mirror.

"Why?"

"Because I understand him and I can afford him. He's no good…" shrug. "But he's what I want. I'm not a nice person, Robin. Neither is he. But he knows I know he's…Just what he is. He also knows that I don't care." Pause.

"We belong together because we're both weak and can't seem to help it." Smile at Robin as she put her compact back in her purse. "And that's why I know he's capable of murder. Because he's like me."

Uh…Robin blinked.

"No, dear…" warm smile, pat on cheek. "I didn't. But I thought about it." She went to the door, Robin staring after her.

"You do get that I mean you as much or more so than poor Miss Redfern?" smile. "And believe me, it's not just the American in me…Really so good to have you back, niece." Closing door.

(Two evenings later, Erickson home…."Marshall, I'm really not that way…" Lily pleaded, urging a nervous Marshall who'd voiced a sudden desire for the last two evenings to sleep on the couch. "And anyway, I've got my Shelby, right?")


	16. Chapter 16

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehearsal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend

Part XVI…

A troubled Robin had re-entered the living room…Avoiding Carpenter's increasingly anxious glances her way, as well as mine.

Clearly, whatever real concern Shelby Carpenter felt for his dear fiancée in this matter, he was at least equally concerned for his own precious rear…Yes, the happy couple reunited were beginning to come apart at the seams, though for whose sake?

It was time.

I caught Lydecker-Mosby glancing my way, as if in anticipation…

Yeah, he clearly hoped the game was afoot and that he'd be in at the kill…Rather curious attitude for someone so devoted to Robin, even if the somewhat embittered ex- whose efforts had so largely helped to make her what she now was…

Still I caught his look at her as she returned to the living room and nervously tried to pick up the conversational flow, people quickly clustering about her… A look of anxiety, but also…Hope.

No, he was genuinely glad to see her back among the living…And he definitely hadn't expected her return as Carpenter had.

Then there was dear Aunt Anne Treadswell…I looked over to where Anne was engaged with several society types in some deep conversation either about war charity work or the next big party or whatever else the old money wealthy concerned themselves with. But her eager, even desperate glances to Shelby, still manning the bar, betrayed her casual pose. Though the look she cast at Robin wasn't pure jealous hatred…More a look of pleading…Laced with sympathy and even, concern.

But I've known suspects with killers' remorse, even some who pitied their victims…You'd be surprised how many of our nabs turned themselves in, anxious to clear their souls once the rage or fear or anger had passed.

("Bet a lot were named Ted." Robin, chuckling. "A few might be named…Tracy." Tracy noted.)

Yes, it was time to nail things down…

The phone rang, startling everyone…

For, after all, for this crowd, everyone who was anyone, was already there…

Cora took the phone…

"Yes? Yes…Lieutenant? It's for you." She offered me the phone…

The looks from around the room…Anne, anxious…Clearly not so much for herself…Carpenter on guard, nervous but uncertain…Anxious clearly so much for himself…Various friends and "friends" of Robin eagerly eyeing me, sensing blood and ready for sport…De Witt looking rather amused, as much at the vultures as the situation…Young Hunsecker eyeing me grimly…Lydecker-Mosby, a mix of anticipation and concern briefly on his face, followed by a quick mask of affected casualness…

And Robin, eyeing me, by turns, uncertain, anxious, fearful…Sensing something was up.

My heart took another, slighter dive…But I had to stay the course. One way or another, I had to know.

"Hello?" I took the phone.

"Hello, Commissioner. Yeah…I know, don't worry." I told the listening Sergeant McGuillicuddy at our wiretap in the basement of the building.

"I told you I'd bring in the killer today. Yeah, I was just gonna make the arrest when you called."

All conversation had ceased in the room…

"I can't tell you now, I'm not alone. You'll see when I come in. Right. See you later, Commissioner. Yeah, well…I guess I am awesome, thanks." I nodded to phone, hanging up.

So, do I have to bring the underwear back now? McGuillicuddy puzzled as he hung up.

I mean it's so hard to find nice silken undies with the war and all…

…

"All right…Lets go." I calmly faced a stunned Robin.

"You mean…?" Robin stared.

"Yeah…" dryly.

"Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no…!" Cora, spinning round from the group of guests she'd paused to offer a tray to, before my little drama caught all attention, screamed. "Not Miss Scherbatsky! NO! Please!"

"Thank you, Cora. It's all right." Robin told her, patting her hand while carefully setting tray down…It's a camel-color rug and we haven't invented Scotch-Guard yet, watch it will ya, honey?

Nice of the killer not to splatter Diane about the living room…That would never have come out.

"Now would you be good enough to go and get my things, dear?" she urged Cora.

Uh…

"Unless of course you'd care to confess?" she eyed the stricken maid.

"No…No, no, no…!" Cora cried. "But sure, ma'am, just a mo."

"Is that no, you won't confess or no, you won't get my things but you will confess in a mo?" Robin, hopefully. Cora scurrying off to bedroom…

Geesh…I make twenty bucks a week…She expects me to take the fall for her too? Hell no to that, crazy devoted as I am to the spoiled little…

"Robin, dearest…" Ted had come over… "Don't worry, my darling. Let them accuse you. We'll fight them." He seized her hands in his, glaring at Stinson who watched. "I've every weapon…Money, connections, prestige…And my column. Millions will read about you and rally to your defense."

"Fifty that she did it…" One guest hissed to another.

"You talk as if you wanted her on trial for murder…" I noted to Lydecker-Mosby, coolly.

Carpenter now standing by Robin, anxious… "Robin, I told you to watch out for this fella…"

"Yes…" Lydecker-Mosby glared at me… "Rather than let you blacken her name with suspicions and rumors. Try to prove her guilty. Get on the witness stand with your cheap shreds of evidence. I'll expose you and the cheap methods you used on her."

"Can we go now?" I turned to Robin who simply stared at me, stunned, as Cora helped her put on her coat.

"I warned you, Robin…" Carpenter insisted, rather feebly. Anne moving to him…

I eyed him coldly. "It's too bad you didn't open that door Friday night, Carpenter. Lets go." I told Robin.

"Wait a minute!" Carpenter grabbed at me, angrily, fists raised. I jabbed him one in the stomach and he folded up like a cheap suit.

Though to be fair, I can't really accuse Shelby Carpenter of cheap suitism…Anne at least had kept him in proper attire.

"Shelby!" Anne cried…Robin merely looking at him, as he gasped on the floor.

"Oh, did he hurt you, darling?…Darling." Anne, hugging him tightly as he groaned.

"Oh…Anne…" he gasped.

…

The station house…Interrogation room.

"Come in. Sit down." I told Robin curtly, leading her in. She'd recovered her poise and eyed me coldly now, taking the seat I'd indicated across the table. I nodded to the officer who'd followed us in.

"That'll be all, McGuillicuddy."

"Yes, sir. Ma'am." The heavy-set McGuillicuddy nodded.

"You can keep my underdrawers, by the way, Sergeant." Robin noted.

I frowned at the sheepish McG…C'mon, man. He shutting door I sat down at the table to face her and…

"Wait…We're on the wrong side. You get over here…I'm there." I noted. She, frowning rose.

Damn, almost had him there…He'd never have held out under the lights.

"Ok." I sat and turned on the hot lights, now shining in her lovely face. She covered eyes, averting…

"Not so easy to just look gorgeous under the hot lights, eh, beautiful?" I noted. "The makeup can't even…"

"I'm not wearing makeup…" she frowned.

"Really?" I stared. "None? But your skin is so smooth and even and the lights don't lie. I had Ava Garner Rooney in here a few months ago on a hit and run while DWI charge that the studio made go away at the top levels, since Mickey lived, and honey, under these babies…"

"Well, we Canadiens…" shrug. "Even years of American high living can't destroy our natural complexion. Which makes me suspect, Detective…Given your constant awesomeness…" she eyed me suspiciously.

"Ok, maybe I have a Canadian relative…" I shrugged. "Distant one."

"Uh-huh…Like maybe an uncle or an aunt. That flawless skin don't come out of California or New York soot, boy. Fess up." She insisted.

"Hey. I am asking the questions here, lady." I insisted.

"I asked first. You give."

"No, you give…"

Wait, I frowned as she grinned.

Damn dames…Always trying to pull a fast one on ya…

"All right, enough. Lets have it. Look at me."

"Be easier without the lights, I can't see you very well and I'm getting spots." Robin noted.

("Really, dim it a little willya, I am getting spots." "Sorry, sweetheart…" Barney hurriedly dimming.)

"What are ya tryin' da do, force a confession outta me, coppa?" she eyed me.

"Why are you talking like that?" I asked.

"Just getting into the New York police interrogation spirit."

"Yeah…Well even Cagney doesn't really talk that way."

"Ok, fine…" she frowned. "What difference does it make any way, you've made up your mind that I'm guilty."

"You've been holding out and I want to know why. It'll go easier with you if you tell the truth."

("Oh, God…Can you imagine your saying that to me five years ago?" Robin grinned, chuckling. "It's only because I did say something like that at our wedding that you married me." Barney noted, calmly. "Oh, God…So you did." she sobbed… "Barney…I love you so.")

"What truth? You think I'm guilty." She glared.

"Are you?"

"Don't tell me you have any doubts?" she eyed me. "Do I have to have those lights in my face?"

Well…This being 1944 film noir….I thought.

Yeah…

Still…The lights were causing a bead of sweat that might bring a blemish and ruin that awesome blouse collar…I adjusted the lights.

"Thanks." She sighed.

("Course you do know I coulda held up another eight hours under the bright lights…" Robin noted. "My dad, he had twenty-four hour sessions to build me up for when I joined the CIA as an off-duty Canadian Intelligence officer." "Yeah, you know…I'm telling Carol about that." Barney frowned. "Oh…Don't do that." Robin blanched. "You know how angry she gets about Dad treating me rough as a kid…And then he starts to get scared? Last time he cried, he was so afraid she'd leave him. Barney? This was said in confidence…Like you and that fourway you found your mom engaged in that time? If Reverend Sam ever found out…?" she eyed his sudden, eager look.

"Hey! We talked about this. You don't wanna win over James that way!" She insisted.

"Oh…All right." Barney frowned. "But 'It's here to a great Dad' not 'World's Best Father' on your dad's birthday mug this year.")

"Detective Stinson…Barney…" she sighed. "I didn't kill Diane Redfern or anyone else."

"Anyone…Else?" I stared.

Hmmn…There had been a lot of splatter there on that doorstep…

"C'mon…" she frowned. "Just covering any bases…This coulda been a serial killer."

Hmmn…

Remind me to check with Quince on similar murders in the last six months…

"Then why did you tell me your radio at the lakehouse was broken or that you had an unbroken, working shotgun of the right caliber right over the mantelpiece there?"

"Well…I called the local handyguy to fix the radio. And the gun, well…Doesn't everyone keep a shotgun at their lake side cottage? Thieves, vagrants, undesirable minorities, Nazis and Japs from Uboats and subs."

"Ok on the gun, though I already checked to see if it had been fired recently. Fortunately you or Carpenter are lazy about cleaning and the gunk was months old. But how'd this 'handyguy' get in?"

"Well, I always leave a key in the flower pot on the porch."

Don't ask 'what flower pot?'…She mentally prayed.

No need for him to know Nick the handyguy still had his own key…Old news…Over and done…

I nodded appreciatively…"You're too intelligent to have made up something I could so easily check…But intelligent enough to have broken it yourself to strengthen your story." Arch look.

Damn he's good…Robin sighed.

Thank God I'm not guilty or he'd have me pinned like a butterfly.

"Main thing I want to know is why you pulled that switch on me with Carpenter. Last night you told me you'd decided not to marry him." Stinson, sternly.

"Yeah? Heck I tell guys I don't want to marry them all the time…" she noted. "Ted for instance…"

"Say what?" I blinked.

"Oh, old news…He told me he didn't want to marry me either." She frowned at the memory. "We were too unsuited really, he said…After he'd thought it over. Of course that…May have caused me to start pursuing him for a year…"

"What?"

"You know…Deny something and all of a sudden you really want it." Shrug. "But we came to our senses and decided we'd be best off as good friends and occasional lovers." She noted. "Then I hooked up with Shelby and you know the rest…Well, there were several guys in between…"

"Driven off by Ted's 'charms'…"

"What? Oh…Well, Ted wrote a few columns deriding them, we had a few viciously sarcastic punfests destroying them while I had dinners, then lived with him…But really it was my decision."

"Wait, what?" he stared. Then shook head. "Ok…Back to Ted later…As to Shelby…Today it was on again. Why?"

"Well…I changed my mind. Sue me." Robin shrugged. "Maybe I just decided it was nice to be with a guy who was really ready to commit."

"And Lydecker-Mosby wasn't?"

"What's this with Ted? Are you in love with him?" she eyed him, fuming. "Look I love Ted, a lot…He got me my start and he's so witty and bantery and socially connected and all that. But after giving it a try we realized we just weren't suited for the long haul. I mean he still wants kids…Even after that awful JJ…"

"Oh…You don't like kids." I paused.

"I didn't say that…" Robin frowned. ("I thought we were going to film this minus the kids in here, especially now?!" Robin fumed.) "I just didn't want them, right then. With Ted."

(Oooh…Marshall winced. "It's fine, Marshall." Ted noted. "Yeah, but buddy…" sympathetic sigh.

"Shut up, Marshall." Tracy, grimly.)

"Meaning…?"

"Life is full of possibilities…" she noted, shrewd look. "But as I said…Ted and I were just very good friends and occasional lovers."

"Yeah…That 'lovers' occasional or otherwise can sometimes be a problem in murder cases. Though Lydecker-Mosby does have his air-tight alibi. Back to Carpenter, again." I suggested.

"What are you trying to hide there? Don't you realize you're implicated in a murder case? You've got yourself in a jam it's not going to be easy to get out of…" Stern look. "…unless you're on the level with me. This is no time for secrets."

She gave distressed look.

"Now, did you really decide to call it off? Or did you just tell me that because you knew I wanted to hear it?"

"Wait…What?" she blinked.

"What went on between you and Carpenter last night? Did he persuade you to make up? Or did you agree to pretend you had? Was that it?" I struggled to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

"Well…We…That is both of us thought…"

"He convinced you if you broke the engagement now, people would think he was guilty." I concluded.

Covering my relief awesomely.

"You're relieved…" Robin, with smile.

What? No… Well…I maintained an awesome cool.

Good thing she was under the lights still, even if dimmed and couldn't see my start…

"Yes, but now I know it was only because he thought I was…And apart from being afraid I might decide to make it a twofer on cheatin' lovers…He really did want to protect me as well as himself. And I could see you start." She beamed.

You like me…Her smile noted.

Hmmn…

Maybe I shouldn't have belted Carpenter one at that.

("No…Maybe you should have…Slapped!..." sudden move of open hand causing Barney flinch slightly. "…him. Which of course would have given me one credit…Slap!...In the slap bank." "Marshall…" Tracy glared. "Barney's been a good guy since you unloaded your last slap at his wedding…Which, frankly? Very uncool, if perhaps properly closing an era of Stinson slickness. You keep this up and I start as Slap Commissioner of my own slap bank for Robin. Get me?" narrow stare.

"Nobody deposes me as Slap Commissioner, Mosby!" Lily glared, rising.

"Careful…Extremely tight and expensive gown, Lily!" Marshall waved for calm.

"Robin keeps her own bank. I am her Commissioner thereof. Legally certified. End of story!" Tracy, nodding to Robin, showing certificate to a fuming Lily.

"Robin?"

"I'm getting a little tired of Marshall's sadistic slap streak, Aldrin." Robin noted, coolly. "It was ok when Barney was an asshole, it's not ok since Last Slap. And it wasn't right to slap him on our wedding weekend."

"Now that's debatable…" Marshall insisted.

"People saw it still on our wedding day. They thought he had the clap or something." Robin glared.

Lily perusing certificate…Wait…

"Marshall? You notarized this?!"

"They asked me. I couldn't resist. The lawyer in me." He sighed. "And, maybe I should curb that side of me a little…So long as Barney never reverts to assholedom."

"Of course…" Barney frowned. You can never die…He hissed to Robin.

"A gentleman's agreement! Huzzah!" Robin, clasping Marshall's and Barney's hands together in hers.

"Of course, Ted's recent behavior has bordered seriously on slap country…" Lily noted, rather hopefully.

"No argument there…" Tracy nodded. Ted blanching a bit…)


	17. Chapter 17

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehersal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend…

Part XVII…

The Interrogation Room at the station house…

Robin, under the harsh lights, confronted by a determined Detective Lieutenant Stinson…

Determined to get to the bottom of her feelings for Shelby Carpenter…Er, her part in the grisly murder of poor Diane Redfern…

"So, it's true, you were covering for Shelby, faking the re-engagement? That you thought people would think he was guilty?" I tried to sound properly grim rather than anxious.

[McGuillicuddy, waiting in station outer office, nodding to seated officers, all well experienced in the Detective Stinson method of breaking witnesses down. "He's got her right where he wants her..."

"Aye, my boyo..." Officer O'Flanney beamed. "It'll be a banging before the necktie party, for sure. Tis Lieutenant Stinson's generous way...Send 'em out with a bang after nailin' em."

"Please..." Officer Rupert ("I love Rupert almost as much as Randolph..." Marshall, beaming.) Eriksen, nephew to the Police Commissioner… "The lad's buckling to a skirt...Did he even take the rubber hose in with him? No."

"By all the saints, begora...Tis true..." ("Yes, tis Irish stereotypin' of me father's people, but I'll say nothin' given me chance to play a male Irish cop and wear me Ted's favorite fedora." Tracy noted, smoothing hair under fedora.) "The lad's not taken the hose with him. He's not signaled for us to come in and threaten the suspect. He's gone and caved to that missie."

"She's quite a girl." McGuillicuddy noted. "But I have faith in the Lieutenant. Didn't he resist the charms of that vicious Aldrin mobster?...And of the Nazi lady spy working for Lindbergh in 40? Hasn't he banged his way through every borough in the city, never stopped or checked in pursuit of justice by the wealth, power, thug boyfriend, or boob size of the dame involved? Though perhaps this time, if she is as innocent as I think she is...It's different."

"Barney Stinson brought down by a society dame...Tis a sad day indeed." O'Flannery shook head. "Well, since he's given no sign for us to watch via the two way mirror, lets go beat up some likely guilty parties 1944 justice style, for the greater good and our amusement."]

"Yes…But now I know it was only because he thought I was." Sigh. "He was, in his way, honestly trying to protect me. I see that now." Robin nodded.

"Oh…"

Not going quite the way I wanted…

"Did you believe he was guilty?"

"No…And now I'm sure he isn't. But he'd gotten himself into an awfully suspicious position…And he's the sort of man that people are always ready to believe the worst of…You know, feckless, weak, spoiled, probably bearing Communist or Nazi sympathies..."

"Likely to pudge out as he hits his forties...And go bald." I noted to her agreeing nod.

(Hey...Lily growled.)

I paused…The key, the ultimate question hanging…

"Are you in love with him?"

Robin smiled…Sadly… "I don't see how I ever could have been. Damn my instinctive Canadian politeness to worthless but sadly sympathetic guys."

("Like hell…" Lily frowned. "Don't you listen, Marshall…She'd've been all over Shelby again if this coppa hadn't cut in." "It's fine, Lil…" Marshall patted her.

"What's with that eyeing me on that last line, Scherbatsky?" Ted frowned.

"She just doesn't want me using the shotgun on her…" Tracy, with grim smile.)

"Come on. You're going home." I waved her up…Robin staring.

"But I thought I was…"

"Yeah. That's what I wanted you to think. You and a few others. I didn't even book you." Smile.

Or pull out the rubber hose, I thought.

She glared, rising… "You mean this was some sort of a game?"

Shrug… "I was 99% certain about you...But I had to get rid of that one percent doubt."

"Wasn't there an easier way to make sure?" exasperated sigh.

Well…I gave her a sheepish look…

"I'd...Reached a point where I needed official surroundings."

"Then it was worth it, Barney." Warm smile…One that made my stone-cold, awesome heart skip several beats.

"Unless I'm faking and I was the killer…" wicked grin. I eyed her…

"Sorry…I couldn't resist. You should see your face…" she chuckled.

"Oh, that was a bit mean to Diane wasn't it?" sigh. "Even if she did make out with my fiancée…At the time." She added with sigh.

"I get it. Well, I'll call a cab for you." I told her. "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" disappointed stare.

"Robin? This is 1944. And you're the woman of my fantasies and dreams, come back to life and therefore off-limits till I do the right thing...Not some dame I'm looking to bang." I noted. "Plus we have your apartment under surveillance and there are reporters starting to cluster round at the news of your resurrection and the strange murder of your employee…And my place is constantly staked out by jealous ex-husbands, boyfriends, dumped dames. It's one thing to be accused of brutally murdering your fiancee's girlfriend in a jealous fit…But we get seen together now tonight and your reputation goes down the toilet. Lets talk tomorrow."

"I guess so." sigh. "Well…Good night…Barney." Smile. She paused and eyed me…

"What will you do now?"

"I still have a murderer to catch…And I'm running low on suspects…" I sighed. "Time for me to go home and try to think things through again. I can tell you I'm ruling out Carpenter. I agree with you about him and I suspect someone thought he'd make a darn good suspect…And may have tried to help push that view along."

"Ted?" she stared.

I nodded.

"He has an airtight alibi but he clearly wanted me to go after Shelby."

"He can't help himself, Barney. He's always been fixated on me. But if he couldn't have done it…?"

"Your aunt's still on the list…" I nodded. "Though I am looking into other potential boyfriends of Diane Redfern. But Robin…" pause.

"I said Ted has an airtight alibi. I didn't say he was off the list."

She gave worried look…

"Can we meet for breakfast tomorrow? Say eight?" she asked. "I'll want to hear what your brainstorming produces."

"Love to…But after that…I'm going over to Lydecker's apartment. Then, maybe…Anne Treadswell's…"

…

At six am, after just three hours sleep I was out…To a place I'd wanted to check earlier, but needed to search without any of my new acquaintances by. Particularly Robin Scherbatsky...Who I knew was not likely to enjoy this errand. The studios at Rockefeller Center where one Theodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby was scheduled to give a broadcast that evening. Where he'd given one the night Diane Redfern was spattered about Robin's doorway.

"So the logs confirm that Mr. Lydecker-Mosby was signed in Friday night?" I eyed the official in charge of the broadcast center, a Miss McConnell, who was leading me to the broadcasting studio.

Cute broad, big eyes, curly hair, properly suited up in nice 1944 career girl suit…Though clearly, from the way she spoke, a fan of one Lydecker-Mosby, big time. She frowned, nodding…

"You people have been all over the logs and questioned all of us. Mr. Lydecker-Mosby was here, all evening."

("Thanks for writing Tracy another part, Marshall." Ted beamed. "Certainly…She's earnt it, Ted…Big time." Marshall, sternly. "Plays a big role in your downfall, you know…Glad to do it."

"And to get an excuse to spend the day in Rockefeller Center, alone with Lily." Tracy noted. Marshall and Lily looking away…

"But it does play a key role in Waldo's fall…It's a great part for you, honey." Ted insisted.

He seems pretty happy about this…Robin noted to Barney. "I thought it was supposed to be another exemplary lesson for one Mosby having Tracy blow his alibi."

"Eh, he's just making up to Tracy…" shrug.

"Well…Seems different from the movie."

"Just a bit, makes my detecting look more awesome, given without alibi, Waldo practically proclaims himself guilty from the start."

"Ok…But, we are gonna kill him soon, right? That's not changed?"

"Bangity-bang, yeah." Nod.)

Not that one Stinson was on the prowl now. No, that night before had changed everything. For the first time in my life, I'd found a girl who wasn't a dame…A nun…Or over forty…

…Or, of course, another Nazi spy…But that's another story, coming to you soon, starring Robin Scherbatsky as the fiendish Inga, German-Canadian spy and traitor. With Barnard J. Stinson as Detective Stinson and as John F. Kennedy, naval war hero…Counterspy.

("Barney, remember, we have to fictionalize Great-Grandma Ingrid's story. Daddy told me about her Nazi past in confidence and just in case Trump created a Fourth Reich. Ummn…" Robin eyes the staring Ted and Tracy… "Which I would have opposed to my dying breath as a spy/resistance fighter, as would my dad, of course." "You at least would have had to, whatever Obergruppenfuhrer Robin Scherbatsky Sr. did…My dad's half-Jewish." Barney notes.)

In any case, while I respected the nice gams, hair, and the pretty eyes, I was now taken…Even if nothing formal had been pledged, my troth was plighted. Nor did the fine luscious curves and the sparkling teeth…And the air of a lioness, savage and ready to…

("All right, Barney!" Ted fumed. "Yeah, all right, Barney!" Tracy agreed, winking to him as Ted turned. Mission accomplished, shrewd nod.)

"Yes…Mr. Lydecker-Mosby's never missed a broadcast. And he's always on time and so well-prepared. And he always tells these wonderful stories…" eager beam.

"That never seem to end, yeah…"

Another slight frown by the girl…

Hmmn…Best not to get on her bad side…Though a girl like this, with those boo… ("Barney!" Ted, Robin.

"Thanks…Marshall…" Tracy hissed, with grin.)

"Good friend of mine. Helping me with the investigation into that murder in his society friend's place."

"That Canadian tramp." Sour look.

"Uh…The one who was supposedly murdered and beloved by all New York City…Yeah?"

"And came back to life yesterday, so I read." Miss McConnell frowned.

"You seem disappointed." I stared.

"The girl never appreciated Mr. L-M and all he did for her. Anyone could see she was leading him down a garden path. And that fiancée of hers…They deserved each other, that's all I can say." Grimace.

Hmmn…

Wonder where she was Friday night, about nine?

"So Lydecker-Mosby came, signed in at 6:30, and did his show…And wasn't out till after ten?"

"He waits to be sure the recording is correct. And that night he had coffee with some of us."

"Right, that was in the statement you folks made, backing up his alibi. But…Recording?"

"Oh, yeah…We make electronic transcriptions of everything. To play later for rebroadcasts and the troops overseas. The boys in Europe and Asia and Africa are all big fans."

"I'll bet."

"You know, the boys love TLM's wit…I like to call him that, he's so like FDR." Beam.

"Really? Yeah, I'm not really sure I see that..."

"What?" Frown… "They both know so much about everything, they're both so charming, they both like to use those long cigarette holders, and they both suffer from the same heart condition…Ooops." She puts hand to mouth.

"It's ok as to Ted, I know about his heart condition. But…I'd guess you could be shot or at least carted off to a military prison for blabbing about the president like that."

She gave a worried look, I smiling to reassure her… "I doubt though Mr. R. would do that to a nice kid like you. Just watch it, especially if there's any German or Japanese background in your family."

"I'm sorry…It's just Mr. Roosevelt used the same pills Mr. L-M did, the new wonder drug, digitalis. I know cause Mrs. Roosevelt came running to find them after he broadcast from here for his election campaign and he forgot them. She was so upset, poor thing." Sigh.

"Really oughta watch what you give out about the President, girl." I noted. "But while I knew 'TLM'…Shouldn't it be 'TWLM'?..."

"He hates the 'Waldo'." She frowned.

"…took nitroglycerin sometimes, I didn't know he was taking that. Sounds serious."

"Yeah…Poor TLM, poor FDR…Their condition is fatal you know, a doctor friend told me. Congestive heart failure. Ooops…" she again put hand to mouth.

"Sorry."

"You may be…But I'll forget it if you'd show me where they do the actual recording as well as the broadcast…" I smiled. "So, my ole pal 'TLM' is actually dying?"

"Poor man…But that Canadian bitch is killing him." Brittle grimace. "Oh, hey, Mr. Crosby!" she waved to the passing crooner.

("Just 'fleshing' the character, huh?" Robin frowned at Marshall…)

"Bo-bo-Barney!" Bing Crosby waved to me, in passing, removing pipe and hat to nod to the girl. "We're old pals." I noted to the girl. "It'd be Stinson and Crosby, rather than Hope and Crosby, if I'd not chosen police work over comedy. Really, as to Robin and Ted? I thought them just friends?" I continued, trying to make light of it.

"He loves her…Obsessively…Was always trying to get her to marry him when they first went together. It's…Pitiful." Tracy, straight-eyed intense stare at camera.

("Isn't she great?" Ted notes. "Ted!" Lily glares, whacking at his arm.

"Geesh…Lily? I get it. But she's still great, right?" he eyes Lily who softens at his smile.)

"But he stopped…?" I noted.

"He knew it was hopeless and in his heart that they were wrong for each other. Oh, yeah." Tracy, firmly, to camera. "But he can't bear it, in his condition."

"Though…To be fair, she did always warn him off…But she couldn't give him up, either, completely…She needed the attention and love and support he gave her as much as he needed her. Kept coming back to him, for years. Codependency, I call it." another stare to camera.

("Does she have to look at me like that?" Robin hissed to Barney.)

"Of course, I hear tell…" I eyed the girl. "…That ole Waldo…Sorry, 'TLM', managed to torpedo a few relationships she started."

"So she'd tell it…But she was never into those guys. She picked them because she knew he'd shoot them down for her."

("I didn't…" Robin, a bit anxious, to Barney. "You weren't waiting for Ted, you were waiting for me to grow up." Barney smiled.

Awww…You…She beamed.)

"Well…" Miss McConnell paused at a large door, sign on it calling for "Silence-Recording in Progress". "It's ok, only when the lights are red are they actually recording…" she opened door.

"The broadcast booths are through there, but recordings can be done here or in the booths." She noted.

"Anyone in the recording room here when broadcasts are on?" I asked, casually.

"Sure…" she shrugged.

"What about if a performer wants to make a prerecording?" I asked. "Say he or she knows they can't come in for the broadcast…?"

"They'd do it here." She noted.

"And is there anyway, say they come in at the right time of day, they could do the recording alone?"

"Sure, if no one's in and they have a key. It's not hard to learn the system. But of course, that would be noted in the actual broadcast, that a recording was being used."

"Right." I nodded. "Could we see the booths?"

"This way…" she led me.

…

Four booths converging on a central lobby… Two large enough to accommodate a few people for music, etc. Two barely large enough to hold one person and the broadcasting equipment.

"Hmmn…So they go in and do their programs in one of these rooms…? And all open on this lobby? Any other way to leave the booths?" I asked, casually.

"No. And Stanley the attendant's here all evening, except when he gets something or goes to the toilet."

"Meaning he is away at times."

"Just for a moment…" she frowned. "What are you suggesting? Mr. Lydecker-Mosby couldn't have played a recording and left his booth, people would have seen him."

"Friday night…He slips out past 'Stanley' on toilet break. I'd bet the fellow has a routine Ted's quite familiar with. He's a very observant fellow." I shrugged.

"But there are people all around...And he was bantering, during the broadcast…With his son, Mr. Hunsecker." Slight sour look, at the mention of the said Hunsecker from the girl.

"In that booth, the two of them?" I stared. "How?"

"No, JJ from his own booth...There..." she pointed. "I mean he was bantering, JJ was ranting, like he always does. No sense of humor that guy."

"He has his own broadcast? And did it Friday night?"

"His father pushed for it. JJ did have a column, TLM got for him, in one of the conservative rags, that was doing well with right wing extremists. TLM sold it to NBC as a nice pairing…JJ the conservative vs him the moderate. They do a paired bit as part of the broadcast, like I said they were bantering for a while."

"For a while…Not the whole broadcast?"

"Well, JJ has a more limited audience…He does his own thing for part of it, TLM does his…Then they share some air time and debate or discuss a little."

"Father and son debates, nice…"

"JJ just rants usually, like I said…But at least he treats his dad with respect. Anyway, it proves Mr. Lydecker-Mosby never left his booth."

"But he had one of the small booths, he was alone inside."

"Sure. He prefers it. He can hear himself better."

"I can imagine." Shaking my head, I eyed the booth doors. "Ok, so he's in there." I pointed. "Yeah…He prefers it." Tracy nodded.

"Hunsecker is carrying on in his own booth there, a larger one, right?" I nodded to the booth she'd pointed out.

She eyed me.

"I've met him." I nodded, opening the booth door. Small, for sure. Only one could stand or sit comfortably in there...Hello? I looked up.

Hmmn...I returned to the girl eyeing me...

"So, do they rehearse? Before the broadcast? It's at 8:30 or so right?"

"Yeah, the first hour is a set script…But the banter is improvised." Arch smile.

"Uh huh. But if Mosby tucked some banter in toward the end, JJ would expect it and play along? They've done it before."

"Sure…" she hesitated. "But…Look, he couldn't have left during the broadcast, we all saw him at the end when he came out. We had coffee together, him, JJ, the crew."

"He came back before the broadcast ended…Took up the show near the end to add a little spontaneous banter." I eyed her. "Came out and joined you for coffee."

"No…He couldn't have. How could he have gotten…?"

"That's a door...Up there." I pointed.

"Oh, that...It's just a crawlspace for getting at equipment." she eyed me, wide-eyed. "You think Mr. Lydecker-Mosby would crawl up there? In his $100 suit?"

"For this, he crawled up there...It leads out, doesn't it?"

"You could get out...Along the upper balcony..." she stared.

"Anne Treadswell lives five minutes from Robin's place. And Shelby Carpenter used Robin's car, all the time. He knew that. He had a set of keys to the car himself, from Robin, in case he needed to borrow it. She worried about his heart condition. And he was at Anne's annoying her at her house party that Friday afternoon. He made sure she remembered him being there. He left while Carpenter was still playing host to please Treadswell…Then all he had to do was take the car here from Anne's, do a recording during the rehearsal, leaving it playing for the broadcast, drive back to Anne's before the house party broke up, around seven she'd stated, so he wouldn't have to use a cab that could be traced, leave the car, walk to Robin's and wait outside or somewhere inside for Carpenter and Robin, or rather Diane Redfern, to come in Robin's car around eight or so, then after a bit, knock at the door and murder Robin, or rather Diane Redfern in Robin's place, take the subway here for the last bit of show, sparing with his kid who'd never known his dad had left, and have coffee with you people, and then Anne and the police call with the horrible news. A perfect alibi...Vengeance on Robin, Carpenter, the perfect fall guy."

"Wartime traffic is light…But no…" she shook head. "Mr. Lydecker-Mosby wouldn't kill anyone. You're wrong. He's a famous man, he wouldn't…"

"He would and he did, just the wrong girl. He didn't care anymore, he's going to die and he was determined to try and take her with him. If we'd caught him, well, he'd've shown Robin how much he cared… Now I know more or less how he arranged the alibi. It's just the murder weapon…" I sighed.

Jesus. And now Robin's back…And he's not about to give her up.

"I have to go, doll. Thanks for all your help. And…I'm sorry." I told her. "It's easy to see you love him. It stinks, being the other woman."

(Tracy, quiet smile to Barney…Then Marshall. You guys.

But…I am the other woman…Who got the guy. And I've no intention of letting him go. Though it's good for Robin she realized Barney was the one she wanted, before I showed.

Hey, I'm handy with a bass guitar...How hard can a shotgun be?)


	18. Chapter 18

How I Met Your Mother- "Robin"

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended

Summary: In a Stinson family fantasy, the famous film noir "Laura" is recast.

Story Note: If you adore Ted, you may want to choose something else. Barney and Robin have some fun with Ted Waldo Mosby here.

General Note: If you prefer to stick to ending one as aired, fine by me. But they did create an upbeat alternate ending which can be viewed (sorry can't put the web link up on ffnet but try google search or youtube or go to my Buffy Rebecca verse in a few days.)

And oh, come on. After that Canadian rehearsal dinner and the proposal, how could Barney ever let Robin go? And you know she'd kill him first. You want "in the real world", fine…Robin's not right for him and Ted's a fool to risk his happiness over the wrong girl but the right best friend…

Part XVIII…Conclusion…

Just after 8 am, I met Scherbatsky at her place… Just the warmth of her smile and her eagerness to see me dispelling the dark clouds my early morning's detecting had left about me. But sooner or later, preferably later…I'd have to tell her the truth. The man who'd helped her so much, whom she had cared for…And, regrettably, from my pov, occasionally banged…Had sought to murder her. Had murdered someone in her place.

Guess it must've been pretty dark and he was in a hurry to get back to the studio, after all…

Now it was just a matter of locating the murder weapon…And possibly of preventing him from trying again before I could put the cuffs on him.

Though he had seemed pleased at Robin's resurrection…Perhaps he'd had killer's remorse? Or, more likely, saw this as one last chance to win her back…The fates having exposed Carpenter's utter lack of character to her. And torpedoed her rather strange engagement to a man she must have always known in her heart wasn't worthy of her.

("Hey!" "Just leaves me for you, my decadent Anne Treadswell…" Marshall beamed at Lily who, after a ponder, nodded.)

But there was one new problem…Namely, one Barnabas J. Stinson, Lieutenant of Detectives…And rival.

And dangerous rival…For I broke the pattern. He'd been studying me, to protect himself at first, determined to see Carpenter framed and be alerted to any cracks in his rather clever alibi. But although while Robin was dead, I'd been an amusement to him, and even something of a fellow devotee to the cult of Scherbatsky as I'd become…I'll admit it…Obsessed with her, too, he'd sensed in me not another straw man Robin had put in to hold him at bay but a rival of awesome proportions. And with her return, I was a threat in ways even the erstwhile fiancée had never been.

Heck, even if she'd married Carpenter, in a month they'd've been shagging on the side with Shelby happy to look the other way while he banged Auntie Anne.

This was dangerous…And with the rival a dying man, not caring as to risk…Doubly so. Especially for Robin…

After all, hos before bros, right? He'd prefer her dead and me suffering, rather than try to go after me, and she ready to move on to the next loser…

("Hey?" Robin glared. "Which one of you wrote that?! I know it wasn't Barney…Right?" " 'After suitable mourning for the only worthy suitor', Robin." "Lily?!")

After suitable mourning for the only worthy suitor…Natch. But, no, he'd go after her. Easier too…

("Oh?" Robin eyed Barney. "That one I know you wrote. 'Easier'?" "Well, darling…I am an officer of the law, armed and all…Ummn…We'll drop that line.")

But, no, he'd go after her. However difficult it might be…

Though while no one could handle herself like one Scherbatsky, Lydecker-Mosby had her trust, and a knack for winning her sympathy…

Yes, this was dangerous in the extreme…I had to tell her. Until I could bring Ted in, she was likely to have a second splattery mess on her doorstep…Her own, this time.

But before I could, she'd embraced me…And time kinda stood still as we kissed…Till the coffee started bubbling and the toast seemed to be burning. Cora's day off, natch…

And one Theodore showed up, at the door, sardonic smile on his face when he saw me, standing just behind Robin in her doorway…

Fortunately, no shotgun in his hand…

…

"Thought I'd come by and see how things were, dear." Lydecker-Mosby noted, accepting a cup of coffee from her as he sat, languidly, in her living room.

"But I see our gallant detective has you and all things well in hand…" slight sneering tone.

He'd no doubt play his old game first…Trash talk me to her…See if he could shove me aside as he had so many others…

Little chance, but the cheapest way…And the only way to keep Robin with him, alive…

Worth a shot…A man likes to know someone will cry sincerely at his funeral. And of course, trumping me with her still on his arm…Nice. I gotta admit, deserving of a high-five, if he could pull it off.

If…

But the weapon must be close…I had to keep him around, talking…Sooner or later, he'd be bound to give something away.

"So, Carpenter remains free…" smile, sip. "Couldn't get a confession out of him with that stunt of last night's, Detective? I must say, you staged it beautifully. Even I was taken in for an instant."

"I was hoping…Sometimes they do the right thing." I nodded.

"Clever…Isn't he a clever detective, Robin? Sorry, though, your latest little romance is over, darling. Still, I must say it's for the best." He eyed her.

A tiny look of hope there?

"Shelby and I are ending it. But he's not guilty, Ted. No matter how much you try to accuse him." Robin frowned.

"I leave that to our capable detective, my dear. If he feels Carpenter's an innocent lad, I've nothing to say." Pause. "I only wanted to see justice done. Those who'd harmed and degraded you brought down." A look of sincere sorrow.

"I know…" she sighed. "But I don't need your protection, Ted. I never have, though I do care for you, you know that."

"But now you have a far more able protector, eh?" he laughed, bitterly.

"That's enough…" she frowned.

"It's the same obvious pattern, Robin. If Stinson here weren't muscular and handsome in a cheap sort of way, you'd see through him in a second."

Hey…Nothing cheap about one Stinson…Especially his suits…

"Waldo…" she sighed.

He winced at her using his hated middle name.

"I mean to be as kind about this as I know how. But I must tell you. You're the one who follows the same obvious pattern. First it was Jacoby, then Shelby, and now I suppose - I don't think we should see each other again…"

He blanched…Robin…

The last dream slipping away…I could almost pity him. Though the crack about my cheapness and the memory of Diane Redfern splattered were quick counteractants.

"You're not yourself, darling."

"Yes I am. For the first time in ages, I know what I'm doing." Eyeing Lydecker-Mosby calmly.

"I see." Lydecker-Mosby, icy sneer. "Very well. I hope you'll never regret what promises to be a disgustingly earthy relationship. My congratulations, Stinson. And listen to my broadcast this evening. I'm discussing Great Lovers of History." He rose, dark bitterness in his eyes.

"Ted…Don't lets end it this way." Robin sighed. "I've told you before, many times. I love you as my best friend and mentor…But not…"

"Of course, my darling…" he was composed and his cynical self again. "Stinson, good luck with the case. And remember to listen in tonight, you'll find it enthralling. I focus on obsession."

He left us, but he must've paused in the hallway outside as we returned to the kitchen and sat down again, to finish our breakfast. Robin, pensive.

And it was then that he checked the antique porcelain clock he'd given her…And its secret, locked compartment. We hearing the door to the outside landing close a moment later.

"You know the truth now…" I eyed her. She looking at me, eyes brimming with tears.

"I'll have to arrest him…Soon as I find the gun." I noted.

"Barney, he's a dying man…And desperate… It was my fault, really. I wasn't strong enough to send him away for good. I owed him too much."

"A murder's been committed, Robin. All that's fine but he murdered a poor girl and he would've murdered you."

"I know…" bleakly.

"Good bagels, huh?" she noted, biting.

"Great…Where'd you get em?"

(Ok, lets get to the big scene when I…I mean when Theodore Waldo…Gets his Robin back…" Ted called, beaming happily as Tracy stood by, video camera in hand, slight twitching in face.

"She does not get near that shotgun…I don't care if it's phony or can fire multiple rounds." Robin hissed to Barney.)

…

"Do you have to go?" she asked as I stood in her hallway.

"I've got to convince the Commissioner I have enough to bring Lydecker-Mosby in. That girl at Rockefeller Center should do it…And someone there may have seen the car or him slipping out of the booth."

"That one who was always mooning over Ted?" Robin frowned. "You can't send someone else to talk to her. That nice Sergeant McGuillicuddy?"

"It's my job, doll. And like I said, I need to see if there are any other eyewitnesses…"

"Well, I could come…I'm good at getting people to talk. Especially guys. After all, I'd be safer with you, right?"

And you'd be safer from that girl with me…She thought.

"Stakin' yer claim, eh?" I beamed.

"Yeah, you got a problem with that, Stinson?" she smiled.

"None at all, doll…None at all. Though thank god it's 1944 and I can get away with such a violation of police procedure and witness confidentiality. Lets go…"

"Sure…After I change." She grinned, pulling me close.

"But you look…Ohhh." I nodded.

("And that's as far as we need to go there…" Robin sternly, eyeing the kids.

"Wait…" Marshall put up a hand.)

"Wait…" I paused, eyeing the clock in the hallway. "Isn't this a replica of the one at Lydecker-Mosby's?"

"Yeah…" Robin nodded. "It's the twin…Ted gave it to me, along with a speech about how it marked our souls intertwining…Uh…" she eyed me. "We were kinda a couple then, sorta." Pause… "I mean…You know we did…"

"Bang? Somewhat infrequently? So he told me."

"I did have feelings for him, Barney. I can't deny it…Wait, what the hell!" as I kicked the clock's priceless porcelain front, shattering it.

"Barney! That's priceless…Oh, wow…" she eyed the shotgun I now pulled out.

"And here it is…He had it in the clock all along." I sniffed… "And it's been fired." I opened the gun.

"And reloaded…He was planning to try again, Robin. Robin…?"

"I don't wanna complain, honey…" she sighed, picking up a large piece of priceless porcelain…

"But…Couldn't you have just told me and asked for the key? Oh, wait." She paused. "He never told me it had a compartment…Still we coulda got a locksmith…"

"Don't worry…I have a porcelain guy." I noted, taking the shotgun shells out and putting the gun back in the clock. "He'll get it back looking like new. Or rather pricelessly old."

"Yeah…?" she eyed me. "Why are you putting it back?"

"It's the final piece, doll. He'll be back tonight to do you in. When he does, we'll be waiting for him. Case closed and no questions."

"But…"

"After all, you have a shotgun just like it at your lake house. He'd just claim you had one here too."

"Maybe if you'd not handled it and then wiped the fingerprints off…" she noted.

"Your prints were still likely on it." I eyed her. "It was a gift, both of them, right? From him?"

"Yeah…Matching shotguns. It was so thoughtful of him that Christmas in 1940 when I was worried about my Canadian relatives in the war and felt helpless and wanting to shoot just about any…er, Nazi spies and such. He was always determined to learn to…Oh, my God." She blanched. "I taught him how to spatter that poor girl."

"Nah." I patted her… "You taught him how to splatter you. And we have to prevent him from getting another try. Come on, lets go back in and call my guy to fix this. We don't want Ted coming tonight and finding we know about the gun. Then…"

("Like I wouldn't bring extra shells?" Ted frowned. "They underestimate the Mosby." Tracy fondly noted.

Make sure that thing is not loaded…Robin hissed to Barney.)

"…We continue the scene of a few minutes ago…Which involved a forthcoming romantic but of course utterly PG interlude of expression affection physically?" Robin, eagerly.

"Hmmn…Sure…Though I was thinking we'd go on with our trip to Rockefeller Center and get a few more details while we wait to grab Ted tonight. We might even avoid having to risk gunning him down tonight if he resists arrest. Which it being 1944, almost every suspect 'resists arrest'." I noted.

"Why bother…" Robin shrugged.

Yeah, no need to interview that bimbo McConnell again…

("Hey?" Ted frowned. "Nah, I put that in…It's kinda nice to be a film noir bimbo just once." Tracy beamed.)

…

That evening…

My men were in place outside and in the hallway of Robin's apartment…I was inside with Robin… ("Acting like a total romantic gentleman, kids!" Robin noted.)

All was ready to put the bow on the package known as Theodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby.

We sat, listening to his broadcast…

"And thus, as history has proved, Love is Eternal. It has been the strongest motivation for human actions throughout centuries. Love is stronger than Life. It reaches beyond the dark shadow of Death. I close this evening's broadcast with some favorite lines...Brief Life - They are not long, the weeping and the laughter, love and desire and hate. I think they have no portion in us after we pass the gate...They are not long, the days of wine and roses. Out of a misty dream, our path emerges for a while, then closes within a dream."

"Damn he's good…" Robin sighed to my slight frown…

(OK? Ted eyed Tracy. "Beautiful…Now go get shot stone dead for love, honey." She kissed him.

"Thank you." Ted, tearing up. "I'll never get shot again for love for anyone else, I mean ever, in real life."

"I'm holding you to that, Waldo." She nodded firmly.

Waldo…Heh, heh-heh…Marshall and Barney eyeing each other

"Ten times." Tracy eyed them sternly. "That's all. So, use the name…Wisely."

Wisely, the two nodded. Barney eyeing Robin who gave nod and grin…

Don't worry…"Waldo" Mosby will be "wisely" used. Oops, she caught Tracy's hard stare her way.

Uh…

Soright, the look said. You'll be in real trouble if you were protecting him.)

"We'd better get you out of here, my men are watching over there but he'll be back from the studio any minute." Barney noted.

"Barney? Do you really have to arrest him?" Robin anxiously.

"What? You still like him? Aw, crap…" frowning look. "I mean, he did kill someone. Someone no one cares about but…"

"I suppose…Just…Be gentle, will you?"

"I'll try not to pistol whip him or gun him into a puddle of goo if he comes quietly. Which is more consideration than that Redfern dame got." He eyed her. "What the gang at the station and the fellas he's shacked up with in the cells think of the little aesthete, I can only guess. I doubt it will be something he'll wanna write about in his column before they hang or fry him."

"Hang or fry him?"

"It's the death house for this sort of thing, doll, if he lives that long." Nod. "All right, let me check with the boys outside and then we go."

Yeah, sure…She thought. Someone as well connected and wealthy in 1944 New York as Theodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby is gonna hang or fry…Right.

Oh, wait…He's half Jewish. Yeah, it's the chair or the noose for him. Though Leopold and Loeb...If he can get Darrow-level legal.

In any case, they have him put away somewhere till he croaks from that heart…Phew.

Though it has been kinda neat having a guy like Ted going all gaga over me and while he can be a little much, I really did admire all that elegant refinement and all. Not to mention his fabulous apartment and those wonderful antiques of his (which I suppose I'll have to return now to his heirs or creditors…If I can remember anything of his I ever "borrowed"…Careful, innocent look about her). And the sex, if limited, was really good.

("You really needed to get that in, huh?" Tracy eyed Ted. "Just messin' with ya, babe…As a honorary bro I can see it." Smile. "Trace…You are the best…" Ted sighed. "Yeah. I am." She agreed. "And worth waiting nine years for." Firm nod.)

But as we'll say in Canada when "The Doris Day Show" comes in on TV in future years, "Que sera, sera". I have Barney now, Robin beamed at the detective who was urging her to hurry.

Gun play not being as well-targeted and collateral damage-free as it seems in the movies.

I wonder what a top-ranking police detective makes…And how high in Society they can move. Well, I can deal…Within limits. But if I gotta give the highest echelon up, I should at least take all my stuff outta here. The term "my stuff" being perhaps a bit expansive…And all the most reason to get it out and secured before Lydecker-Mosby gets pinched.

"Barney, I've just got to grab a few things in my…The guest…Bedroom. Be right back." She hurried off as Barney went to check the street outside from the apartment hallway windows. Neither on hand to hear the conclusion of the broadcast by an announcer…

"This has been the voice of Theodore Waldo Lydecker-Mosby on a pre-recorded disk."

"Hello, Robin…" a coldly smiling Ted, standing in the "guest bedroom" bearing shotgun taken from the antique clock.

"Yikes! Ted?!" she jumped.

"I again made use of modern technology, a pre-recording I made yesterday. So, here we are, as we should be, at the end."

"Ted." She put up hands. "You really don't wanna do this…"

"Do what? Watch you clean me out of everything I own as well as stealing my heart, dear? You bet I don't."

Always with the material…So Ted, she sighed. Though that is such a nice shotgun…Say… "Is that a Holloway and Naughton?" she asked. "I never realized, you really went top of the line." Beam.

"Good eye as always, my dear. Yes, nothing but the very best to blow you and that foolishly unfortunate girl away with." He cocked and pointed gun.

"Ted…You don't want to do this…" she tried, hands outstretched, moving a bit. "You remember…You were so happy when it turned out I was alive…And smokin'…" she beamed.

"Great acting." He sneered. "Though it's true I was almost ready to reconsider the blowing away, if you'd've come to your senses and seen that I was the one for you. We belong together, Robin."

"Well, maybe we do, maybe we don't…How about you put the gun down and we'll talk things out. You're so good with words, after all." She noted.

"The time for talk is past, dear heart. Now I act, like your plebian detective. He'llfind us together **,** Robin **…** As we always have been and we always should be, as we always will be." Ted, babbling a bit, waving gun.

("Cuttin' a wee bit close to the bone, dude." Lily sighed. "It's the movie script line, I had to be true to the vision." Barney noted.)

"Well, the joke's on you, Ted." Robin frowned. "Sorry to be a cat but Barney…Detective Stinson…Figured out how you did it and emptied the gun. Don't make me hurt you, honey."

"Hold it right there, dear. Hah…" Lydecker-Mosby sneered… "You think a man like me wouldn't follow basic gun procedure as outlined in the manual and check the weapon first? I reloaded, see?" he opened the gun to show two shells.

Damn…Robin blinked.

Did I just almost let Ted get the better of me with a gun?

"Kudos to your boyfriend for seeing through my brilliant alibi and locating the gun…Too bad one Lydecker-Mosby was just one step ahead of him at the end...Of both of you." He aimed.

"Ted, you've taken one life. Isn't that enough?"

"The best part of myself, Robin- that's what you are. Do you think I'm going to leave it to the vulgar pawing of a second-rate detective who thinks you're a dame? Do you think I could bear the thought of him holding you in his arms-kissing you, loving you?"

(Uh…Marshall eyes Lily. "Ted? Great acting, but you might wanna take it down a…"

"No way! Go Mosby!" Tracy calls, beaming. "It's good, Marshall, really.")

"Robin! It's Barney. Open the door!"

"There he is now…" Ted, sneering.

"Robin!" Barney's desperate call, banging at the door.

"Barney! Keep back! Ted's here!"

"Yes, he'll find us together, Robin...As we always have been, as we always should be, as we always will be!" aiming…Robin suddenly tossing antique vase grabbed off table at him.

"Hey, that's my priceless Ming vase, I knew you still had…!" As she dodged, and the door burst open, Stinson and McGuillicuddy forcing the door, Ted desperately trying to aim and getting off a wild shot.

Damnit, Ted…Robin glared, staring. Right through my Javanese screen…

Ok, your Javanese screen…

Stinson firing…

Uhh…Ted crashed to the ground…

"Barney!" Robin rushed to him.

"Nice shooting…"

"Good-bye, Robin.

Good-bye, my love." Ted, dying.

("And…Cut." Tracy, beaming. "That's a wrap. Right?" she eyed Robin.

"Yeah." Robin nodded, hugging Barney.)


End file.
